Dreaming in Crimson
by Tabbycat aka M.e. G-C
Summary: **COMPLETE** Hm/Dr romance. After Hogwarts closes early, Hermione works as an Auror with her friends. But after encounters with vampires, the Dark Arts, and an old school enemy, Hermione will discover exactly how dangerous this life will be.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or situations, they belong to J.K. Rowling. I don't mean them any disrespect in my writing, because I absolutely love them. 

Author's Note: This is my first fic on ff.n. It takes place during Hermione, Draco, Ron and Harry's seventh year, except that Hogwarts is closed due to the war. It is a dark Draco/Hermione romance with a pretty good plot. It is rated R contains violence, vampires, language, sexuality (in later chapters) and **religious offensiveness**. Please don't flame me if I've said anything in here to offend the church. It's part of the story, it has nothing to do with hating God. Reviews and all sorts of criticism very welcome!  

Dreaming in Crimson

Chapter One

_First Hogwarts closing, and now, an early winter_, Hermione Granger thought sourly. She pulled her cloak around herself tighter to keep out the chill. 

The muggle road was deserted at this hour except for the occasional noise of a distant automobile. It was true that it was unnaturally cool for late October weather; orange lights from building windows mocked the cold gray street below. Hermione sighed jealously at the thought of the innocent, unaware muggles warm in their beds, innocent potential war victims that she was working so hard for to protect. 

Hermione took out a small, silvery mirror from her bag and flashed around the darkened alleys keenly. There didn't seem to be anyone around, and no murky shadows appeared in the Foe-glass. She held her breath and listened…but didn't hear anything. Farther down the street, another figure, wearing the same heavy cloak as Hermione herself, was doing the same. She knew who _that_ was; Seamus Finnigan, a fellow Gryffindor classmate – now fellow Auror –he too was checking the streets for dark activity also.  

_No one here_, Hermione thought, almost disappointedly. They hadn't caught a Death Eater in this neighborhood yet, and she was almost beginning to doubt they were looking properly. The neighborhood she was in was a muggle housing district not far from Diagon Alley, the main center for magical commerce in London. 

Hermione was an Auror in Albus Dumbledore's top-secret Light Resistance. 

Dumbledore had assigned Hermione as well as five other Aurors to look after and filter through this certain part of the muggle city for any Death Eaters in hiding. Those five others were all young, inexperienced and classmates of Hermione (Parvati, Lavender, Dean, Padma, and Seamus). Diagon Alley had been the site for the last serious raid by Death Eaters, one in which Cornelius Fudge, the last Minister for Magic, had been murdered. 

The Dark Lord. You-Know-Who. He was always the cause of bad things that happened in the wizarding world. If it weren't for him, Hermione would have been in school, not stalking around on a muggle street at night looking for Death Eaters. If it weren't for him, she'd be with her best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, except that they were fighting the Dark Side abroad. If it weren't for him, a lot more people - magical and muggle alike - including Fudge, would still be alive. Ever since the summer after Hermione's fourth year three years ago, the Dark Lord had risen steadily back to power to become, for the first time since his 'downfall' at the Potters' thirteen years before, the greatest dark wizard in all of magical history. Hermione supposed she must be an important character in this war because of her close friendship with Harry Potter, the infamous Boy Who Lived. Harry, by no wizard or witch's ignorance, was first on the Dark Lord's list of enemies to be destroyed. Harry had been Hermione's best friend forever (along with Ron, of course) since their first year in Hogwarts, seven meaningful years ago. It was the main reason why she was inevitably tied in to the war – her close relations to Harry.  

The murder of Cornelius Fudge back in early September, when their seventh-year should have started, had and enormous impact on the magical world. They were still far from catching the Death Eaters guilty of the murder and raid on the Ministry of Magic buildings. Hermione and the other Resistance Aurors were working non-stop – as she was now - but the raids had not stopped.

_If only that was the only thing gone bad_. Hermione's thoughts trailed back to Hogwarts. Fudge's death was what caused Hermione having to be a full-time Auror at seventeen, but worse still was the closing of Hogwarts that was unavoidable. Dumbledore had been firm to keeping Hogwarts open since the reincarnation of Voldemort. He never let them down making sure the school stayed one of the safest magical strongholds in Britain. The children were safe there, _they_ were safe there. _But why did Fudge have to die??_ Hermione bit her tongue angrily. She was being immature thinking about it that way, but could hardly help it.

Dumbledore had been called away to help with the Ministry duties. Hermione sighed and a felt a lonely pang thinking about this. It was a decision agreed upon thoroughly by the entire magical community. Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of their time and after all, the _only_ wizard capable of taking Fudge's place. Dumbledore vowed never to leave Hogwarts, but it was the best choice. No one could deny that. The students were sent home, most in tears, to their worried families living in scattered homes over the country. Separated from their friends and teachers, their educations cut off, not knowing what could happen to them…

"Snap out of it," Hermione scolded herself under her breath. Hogwarts closing still gave her nightmares. It scared her not only because of the loss of education, but because it meant that her childhood was very much over, just like that. Hermione had to learn to be an adult – in about three weeks - for the sake of herself and everything that meant something. 'Suppression' of the Dark side meant hard work on their part. Dumbledore had promised it would be only temporarily, until the Dark Side could be 'suppressed'.

_Until whenever that is then_.  

Everyone thought the Dark Lord was gone for thirteen years, and now he back, so who knew how to tell whether he really gone or not? Dumbledore acted optimistic with his undying faith, and thus everyone had faith along with him, but still, no one knew for sure when the war would end.

It was hard to keep that faith. Hermione knew it well. 

They had all been trained hard at dueling by some of the best senior Aurors in the Ministry, but Hermione had never fought in a real raid. The Dark Side was powerful and cunning enough to get to and murder to the Minister of Magic; theoretically it would be easy to take down a few virgin Aurors not yet out of their teens…it was no longer a matter of petty Slytherin rivals in school, but real enemies capable of murder… 

Hermione pursed her lips determinedly amidst her thoughts. She couldn't think about it that way, she wasn't going to let herself or any of her friends get killed.  She had been the top student in Hogwarts – a hopeless bookworm, yes, but top student – she wasn't completely useless. She had been top prefect for two years before getting her Head Girl letter, everyone told her what a bright future she had all the time. Besides, she had plenty of experience fighting the Dark Arts from her after-curfew adventures with Harry and Ron. _And we've got a damn good team of Aurors,_ she thought. _Great, now I sound like Moody…_

Mad-Eye Moody, one of the senior Aurors had a point when he said that, however. Dumbledore was their leader; with Moody himself; Arneldo Bywater, the current Head of Defenses Office; Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, experienced wizards with the Dark Arts from Harry's dad's time; Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall, two of Hogwart's finest professors; and of course, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Parvati and Padma Patil, Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and herself, the new junior Aurors. Besides the active Aurors, they had important allies in the wizarding community all over the continent, like the Weasleys. 

_We're going to win this war_, Hermione thought defiantly. Whether it was just a comfort to herself or if she really believed it, it didn't matter. Hermione pulled a lock of thick brown hair behind her ear, held her head a little higher, and walked down the street.     

~

And she was just another piece in this chess game, just like he was. 

Draco Malfoy sneered at the brown-haired girl walking two stories below him on the street. 

He was perched on top of some filthy muggle building like a silvery-blond caped gargoyle, stonily still as he was disciplined to, carefully observing the Auror below him. 

_Tsk, tsk, tsk, not up to your usual standard, Miss Granger,_ thought Draco sarcastically, imitating a professor who might have been admonishing the perfectionist little mudblood over a grammatical error in an essay. Then he grinned savagely to himself. Although the street was empty now, normally she could very well have hidden among the muggle prostitutes and drug dealers easily had they been out in the cold weather. So it was mostly due to luck, but tonight it had only taken a few minutes to find her.

Draco recognized her easily a few nights ago, with her signature brown curls – now a legendary Hogwarts symbol for academic excellence – visible even underneath the hood of the heavy winter cloak she wore. She left from the same building at different times each night, but generally wandered around the same area. She was walking in the shadows discreetly now. If he didn't keep his eyes open, he could lose her easily in the dark. 

A vague beam of light flashed quickly from the figure that was Hermione Granger. Draco tensed for a moment and reassured his footing. He still had to be careful.

_What was that?_ She was checking for Dark magic, he knew that much…some sort of detecting device? A Foe-glass? _Hahahaha,_ Draco laughed silently. It probably was. The dim beam of light from the glass was now traveling to other places. Yes, without a doubt. He smiled amusedly. It was a pretty good idea, actually. Pity he was so high up on a roof; it wouldn't reach him.

Draco was sure the younger Aurors, Dumbledore's Light supporters who were his age, would be around this part of the muggle city. It was a large but tedious job to try and track the Ministry-raid Death Eaters (some of which were still in the area, but not in Draco's contact). Obviously, such a job would be handed to the less experienced. 

Draco had hidden quietly among muggles (something he braved once and did not plan to ever again) for a week without using magic. Now that there were so little traces of magic in the air left from the raid on the Ministry buildings, the Aurors were getting off-guard. 

Right there was one of them, just like that, out in the open. 

_How stupid can you possibly get?_ Draco thought, partially in glee. He could easily have jumped off the roof of the muggle building and grabbed Granger, right there and then, and brought her to the Dark Lord. She would be, no doubt, an invaluable source of information. He knew the Lord would reward him fabulously. 

Hand her over, yes he would, but not quite yet. 

There were six Aurors there, but he left them all alone. He just wanted to watch them for a while. They had no idea he was there, so why not try and play around with them for a while before handing them in? He especially liked watching Granger. He was enjoying thinking up fun ways to torture her. 

_Cruciatus would be too easy…perhaps the use of old-fashioned muggle torture for the mudblood…_

Nasty thoughts crossed Draco's mind thinking about ways to torment her. The Dark Lord could wait. His need for evil had to be satisfied first. And it would be sweet. It wouldn't be like burning muggles in their houses. It would be a skilled Auror, one he had hated for years.

Just then, an automobile passed by on the quiet street, and he saw Granger duck into an alleyway. The car made him slightly uneasily for a moment. Muggle machinery could be both annoying and dangerous at times. Not that would matter to _her_, she was a mudblood, she ought to know these sort of things well. Draco climbed down the wall and followed her stealthily. 

Draco carefully hopped from the fire escape of a stucco-walled flat to the neighboring building. Granger was prowling around on street ahead. At this point, she looked as if she was trying to meet up with her goody-Gryffindor playmates. Draco scowled derisively at this. 

He was now crouching on the roof of the taller building, a castle-like structure with white walls. It had a tower with a large bell hanging in an open room at the top. A large cross was planted at the top of this tower. 

_Damned religious muggles_. Muggles were so sickeningly gullible into believing. He had read about muggle religions before; it made him look down upon them even more. Foolisheness. Draco turned away from the tower to look back at Granger.

_Granger_.

She was an Auror, he was a Death Eater. They had always been rivals. For one, they had been the top two students in the school. She would have been Head Girl, and him, Head Boy. She was a real brain (which would no doubt come in handy for her) in school; Draco had to admit, as well as he did, he had never been able to surpass her at schoolwork. She seemed to have memorized the textbooks before they were taught in class, the teachers praised her nonstop, and Draco seemed to see her in the library every time he set foot there. Her grades were so perfectly straight and she was such a teacher's pet it made Draco want to vomit. 

And she was a disgustingly good Gryffindor. She was always with her best friends, Potter the Wonderful Boy With A Scar and Weasley the Poor Noble Sidekick. They were always together, running around after hours playing superhero and detective, and they never, ever got in trouble. Draco wondered the teachers would let them off all the time just for being The Dream Team. Dumbledore had always favored the brave, selfless Gryffindors in their act of trying to save the world. 

How could it possibly not make anyone sick? 

Potter, just because he was parentless and such a noble Gryffindor, everyone wanted to lick his shoes. Weasley, the penniless pureblood who insulted other purebloods by being the pet of half-bloods like Potter and mudbloods like Granger. 

They had been his sworn enemies in school. But now, the real game was on. It was no longer a rivalry in grades or house Quidditch victories but for their lives in the war. 

And they were all on the list of people who had to die. _Hell, they deserve it_, Draco thought darkly. 

From where Draco was perched, on the roof of the muggle church, it looked as if brainy Granger would be the first to die. It was too bad, actually. Granger had a lot of potential. If she hadn't been a mudblood and been sorted into Slytherin, her brains and talents could be very useful for the Dark Side. Draco would even have liked her. They had a lot in common, in fact, except that they were mortal enemies. He smiled to himself. 

Below him, Hermione Granger had met up with two of her Auror friends. Fellow Aurors, Draco recognized them as Dean Thomas and of the Patil twins. _Damn, this is going to be too easy_. Draco allowed his attention to be diverted to observing the Aurors below him. 

They were so innocent looking. They really had no idea. Draco focused on Granger. She had a very professional, determined look on her face. The streetlight glowed on her face, surrounded by the frame of her brown hair. 

Draco sneered. It wasn't just her brains that he could have used. Granger, behind her thick textbooks, untamed curls, and the protection of Potter and Weasley, would be quite pretty. She probably didn't even realize it herself, but he had to admit that. Although it was never seen outside of school dances and other formal functions, Granger was very attractive, probably more beautiful than most of the popular Slytherin preps Draco normally associated with. Still, most of the time, Draco never thought of her as a girl, but just a clever brain pinned between the Potty and Weasel.

_What the hell are they doing now?_ Draco thought, glaring at the threesome below him. They were stopping in front of the church, for some reason. He'd have to get them the next night. He knew they'd still be there. Besides, he still had to think of a proper method of torture for Granger before he used his wand again to capture them. 

The Dark Mark, the sign of the Dark Lord, was burned into his forearm. It was stinging painfully as Draco knew it was glowing on his arm. The Dark Lord was calling his Death Eaters for a meeting. Draco pulled up the robe of his sleeve. It a fiery crimson, now, so bright Draco had to close his eyes against it. He had to get somewhere far enough to Apparate. He started to climb down the wall of the muggle church. 

He was starting to see red as he crossed through the alleyways. Dark magic was intriguingly powerful, even for Draco himself to overcome when he had grown up around it. Within a few minutes, Draco had run well out of range of the Aurors' area. One last image formed in his mind: Hermione's hauntingly innocent expression, flooded over in a wave of scarlet light. _She was going to die_, he thought. 

Then he raised his wand to himself and disappeared.    

~

A few minutes later, Hermione stopped again, and took another Dark detector from her cloak, a Curse-Wave tracker. It was a set of curvy metallic antennae that she held to her ear. If there had been any powerful curses recently used in the area, excess magic could be picked up in waves. "_Sonorus_," she whispered, pointing her wand at the base. A few crackles could be heard. "_Priori Incantatum._" Hermione pointed at it again, but nothing came out, no shadows of Dark curses. 

Hermione put it back into her cloak. On their nightly rounds, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Parvati, Padma and her would check the streets carefully with their Dark Detectors, of which they all had a set. Hermione turned around to see if Seamus was still there, but he wasn't. The neighborhood they had to check was large: at least a half-kilometer radius all around the entrance of Diagon Alley. They routinely had their own area to look after. It took about an hour every night. 

Hermione found herself crossing through alleys to use a different route. It wasn't like there could anybody watching her, except maybe an odd muggle, but still. She didn't think major discretion was necessary yet but made a mental note to learn a few Invisibility Spells for security.

_I really hope this goddamn helps a little,_ she thought grumpily. Was this really helping? They never found anything. 

"Herm?" a familiar female voice broke the midnight silence and made Hermione jump.

She spun around to face Padma Patil, the only non-Gryffindor Auror. "Hi!" she replied rather stupidly. Padma was dressed in dark clothes, like she was, her shoulder length dark hair blending in with her silhouette. 

Instinctively, they both ducked into the shadows of the muggle building nearest to them. 

"Herm, did you find anything?" Padma asked intently in a hoarse whisper.

Hermione shook her head. "We need to talk to Dumbledore," she said quickly. She startled herself at how confident logic escaped her lips when she was telling it to someone else. "He has to know there hasn't been any success here. We…"

"Can't just keep looking in the same place for so long," finished Padma. 

"Did you find anything?" a third voice interrupted the conversation. 

A tall male figure stepped up to the two girls next to the muggle wall. It was Dean Thomas, a handsome Gryffindor with dark brown curly hair. Hermione couldn't help raising her eyebrows as he wrapped his arm protectively around Padma. The war certainly didn't halt the growth of any romantic affections budded from school.

"No. We were just planning on telling Dumbledore about it," she told him somewhat dryly.

"Seamus says he picked something up down on the east side," Dean said slowly. "But I don't know. He sounded pretty confident, so we could go a little farther tomorrow night." He shrugged. "But no more for today, I'm sleepy."

"It seems pretty hopeless, doesn't it?" Padma murmured. Dean pulled her closer to him.

"Dumbledore wouldn't send us here if he didn't expect us to get anything," Hermione said, and before she could stop herself, "It's only been a week. How do you expect to get anything done if you give up now? We'll owl him, but we'll stay try Seamus' lead. In fact, we can do it tonight, if you're up to it."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right, of course," Dean responded hastily. 

"It's cold. Where are we?" Padma said suddenly. 

Hermione looked around as if for a street sign. "Pandora Street?" she guessed. Looking up at the white-walled building they were standing next to, she saw that they were surrounded by flats and darkened shops. The white-walled building was a church. "This is the Church of St. Mary."

The other two looked up. The church was a tall, elegant one, with stained glass windows and a simple cross at the roof. 

"It's really beautiful," Padma said softly. "Muggles, they take their religions seriously, don't they?"   

Hermione saw that Padma was eyeing a pile of flowers placed on the steps. A large bouquet of deep red roses had been placed in the center. She stepped up to it, and fingered them gently. They were velvety soft, and in fullest bloom. 

"Who would leave such nice flowers here on such a cold night?" Dean wondered. 

Hermione traced the edges of the dark red petals between her fingers. They were flawless and perfectly attended to. The colors were so bright and pure it looked almost liquid-like. The florist must have been skilled. 

"And how come so many of these flowers are black?" Dean asked again.

Hermione noticed he was right. There was only one red bouquet. The rest of them, all black, were wrapped in assorted ways: gifts from different people. "I think they're sympathy flowers," Hermione said. She picked up a dear. "Dear Mother…" she began. 

"Who died?" Dean picked up a card as well. 

"Oh…" Padma gasped, as if recalling something. "I read about it in the Daily Prophet this morning. There was a death reported of a muggle. They said it was vampires." 

"Vampires?" Dean snorted loudly in the quiet of the atmosphere.

Padma nodded sternly at him. "The muggles have no idea how he died. That's why there aren't any people out here on the street. They're all scared." 

"What do you think, Hermione?" Dean turned to her. 

"That's mad," Hermione blurted. "There are hardly any vampires in Britain. Why would they go around attacking muggles when You-Know-Who is in power? I've never heard about a vampire attack before. They're very secretive, you know."

Padma and Dean shrugged. Normally no one argued with Hermione's opinions.     

A cold gust of wind blew by, and Hermione wrapped her cloak tightly around herself. Dean brought Padma closer to his side. 

"Muggles," Dean said quietly, shaking his head.

Hermione sighed and turned her eyes away from the stunning red roses. 

"We should go if we're not searching."

"Okay," Hermione said, nodding. Slowly, they parted to take their own routes, knowing they would only meet back again at the Diagon Alley. Dean and Padma were now holding hands underneath the eerie street lamps. Hermione may have lived her childhood and her summers in the muggle world, but it was still chilling her now.

_Black means mourning_._ Red roses mean love_. It was a nice metaphor. The muggles must have been very kind people. Religion is a wispy thing, but love isn't. And the world is built on love, isn't it? 

Hermione put her hands into her cloak pockets, her hand wrapped instinctively around her wand. 

Hermione knew the attack could not have been vampires. Vampires are too rare, and judging from her Defense against the Dark Arts class, not powerful enough. It had to have been the Dark Lord, one way or the other. 

~


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters, they still belong to the great JKR. 

AN: Hi! Thank you **Landry Anne, Sucker for Romance, Kay, Icyfire, **Blanche Dubois**, Deirdre Puney, **LuckyDuck**, Author LT**, and of course, **Hell's Hauntress, Magik** and PinkDiaryGirl for reviewing for chapter one ;) 

Please be patient with me for a few chapters, Hermione and Draco won't be meeting _yet_. The first few chapters are mostly dedicated to the plot and building of characters. I'm trying not to make it too long and dragged out, but I think a good story needs a good plot because anything juicy comes out. 

Chapter Two 

Draco arrived precisely two seconds after he Apparated from the muggle warehouse. It was a dark, forested clearing area nearing Little Hangleton. The graveyard where the Dark Lord murdered his father was his favorite meeting place, for it was where he had given himself completely over to the Dark Arts.  

Pulling on his mask from his pocket, Draco stepped into his place in the Inner Circle, second from the Lord's left side, and to the direct left of his father, Lucius. As soon as he did, the pain in his arm ceased. Draco gave a slight nod to Lucius on his right. Lucius returned the same way. A proud, full satisfaction filled him. He was worthy to be his father's equal. 

Slowly the circle began to fill itself out as more Death Eaters Apparated in. The Dark Lord himself wasn't there yet, either that or he was invisible. Either way, he did not like to appear to be waiting for his servants. 

There were about twenty or so Death Eaters who were in the Inner Circle, and about thirty in the second ring, not including Wormtail, the Lord's personal slave. Draco didn't know the full details of how Wormtail came to have that position, except that he was a criminal of whom the entire magical community thought to be dead. Also that Wormtail was a clumsy idiot whom the Dark Lord planned to dispose of now that there was no longer a shortage of Dark supporters. 

Within a few minutes, the two circles were filled with black-hooded Death Eaters like himself. There were several Death-Eaters-in-training kneeling. Draco knew some of them from school – Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe – but he certainly didn't owe it to bring himself as low as to call _them_ friends. _It's been months and those idiots still haven't passed initiation_, Draco thought with a sneer. 

Draco also noticed from behind his hood that several of them had to be supported to stand. He knew some of these Death Eaters: Nott, Crabbe, and Tadris. _They must still be injured_, Draco realized. _Obviously their skills aren't up to standard_. There were about fifty Death Eaters in total, but most of them weren't really worthy of the honor.

Soon, a small wave of Dark energy flowed through Draco's body. Everyone else felt it, too and they all fell to their knees and bowed their heads. 

The Dark Lord had arrived. 

The strange negative energy emitted in his presence was so strong that one did not need to look to know where he stood. "We live only to serve you, My Lord," came the humble simultaneous murmur of the prostrating Death Eaters. 

"Of course," he hissed. "My servants, my Death Eaters, arise." 

Draco stood up, keeping his head bowed. He could see only the hem of the Lord's black robes draping over the dark grass. Everything was black, black, very, very black. 

"My faithful Death Eaters, is it not a beautiful night?" the Dark Lord said lazily. He was very confident in his power, wasting time, giving even giving a small laugh at his own joke. Another murmur waved through the rows of hooded servants. No one dared give a proper answer of course. 

  The Dark Lord walked around the circle slowly, surveying the Death Eaters. "Our circle," he began, in hardly more than a whisper, "is complete again. The Lestranges," he gestured to a pair standing to his right, "are back after waiting so long in Azkaban for me." Draco saw the Lestranges, a married couple, bow humbly as the Dark Lord began to praise them and speak of their loyalty. Salina Lestrange was one of the only female Death Eaters.

"Severus!" he exclaimed, stopping at a Death Eater several spaces to Draco's left. "How kind of you to join us again, my good friend." He paused. "I don't believe I need to doubt your loyalty to me anymore, do I?" 

"Never, my Lord," replied Severus Snape in a confident voice. 

"Never?" he laughed. "I should hope not, _Severus_. Your decoy with Dumbledore provided useful information. May you never let me question your reliability."

"You will not, my Lord," Snape countered in a voice that was altogether humble yet fierce.

"Good, then." The Dark Lord walked towards Draco and Lucius. Draco stood up straighter to face him. 

"Lucius, Draco, Malfoys senior and younger," he stated. 

"My Lord." 

Now that he was standing so close, Draco could see the ghostly white skin of the Dark Lord's snake-like neck and the slit-like mouth. Draco fought back a shudder. _As fearful as is to be respected_. 

"I must say I am very pleased with your work, Draco…Lucius, your son holds great promise." Lucius murmured his thanks. "Yesss, this is very satisfying work. Draco, your organization last week at that muggle village was very well done. Any mishaps were managed, I presume. Regrettably, some of our number were injured," he waved nonchalantly at Nott, Crabbe and Tadris, "but a job well done. Now as the area is cleared, I shall be able to go myself…as for you, I shall expect no less from this father-and-son pair in the future." 

Draco nodded a humble thanks before the Lord moved along to another matter. He caught a small nod of approval from Lucius and smiled to himself. 

"Now, I believe, Tadris, you had something you wished to tell me," the Dark Lord was now addressing one of the Death Eaters suspended in the air by magic. A stifled cry and a thump told Draco that Argyll Tadris had lost his support and had fallen onto the grass. 

"Y-yes, m-my Lord," he said, with an obvious effort. Draco lifted his head and saw that Tadris was trembling on the ground in pain. He had been in St. Mungo's for burn treatments when they had been summoned and really wasn't in good condition. 

"I-I," he continued, "b-believe th-there w-was a-a-a-" The Dark Lord sighed impatiently, and within an incantation, and seemed to relieved Tadris of his physical pain.

"Th-thank you, My Lord! You are most generous –"

"Continue." 

"Y-yes, of course. My Lord, on the night of the fire at Torchensend – the muggle village – at which I was there, with some others – there was a traitor among us…the girl, that girl, the one whom was our guide, that Chang girl, she did not help us, she left us –"

 This seemed to catch the Lord's attention. "Are you sure?" 

"Yes! I am completely sure of it! She sent us to the wrong house, where we were nearly burnt to death, I am completely sure that she is a traitor!" 

"Enough. Wormtail," the Dark Lord turned to a whimpering figure cowering by a gravestone. 

"Wormtail, I believe it was you who found this contact, was it not?"

Wormtail stuttered a few excuses, but to little effect. "She g-gave me very good information, my Lord, I was s-sure she was trustworthy…there must have been a mistake…"

"There was no mistake, my Lord!" Tadris cried. "She –"

"That is enough. Wormtail. This girl attended Hogwarts. Was she in Slytherin house?"

Wormtail stammered something inaudible. 

"You used a spy _not from Slytherin house_? You did not bother to find out?" The Lord turned to Tadris. "Where is she now? Was she killed?" 

Tadris seemed to swallow the words that he was planning to say. "I –"

"Did she get away?" came the icy tranquility of the Dark Lord's voice. 

"I – she – I thought she had perished in the fire, I –" 

"Punish them both. Lucius, you may have the honor, Cruciatus –"

"No, my Lord! There is more –" Tadris protested desperately, the fear rising in his voice. 

"Are you interrupting me, Tadris?" the Dark Lord said lazily.

"NO! Never, I would never! I just wished to tell you, the vampires, they were there, too, caused a lot of trouble – " Tadris was speaking very quickly as to try to escape a possible sentence.

"Lucius, please have the honor of punishing Mr. Tadris and little Wormtail here," the Lord went on silkily. On Draco's right, Lucius stepped forward to follow orders. If Draco had been the sentimental type, he'd feel sorry for the two, pathetic as they were. The Dark Lord was losing his patience with Wormtail…it was only a matter of time before he executed him altogether.

"Vampires…" he rubbed his palms together thoughtfully, calmly ignoring the pleading of Tadris and Wormtail.  He turned and addressed Draco. "Did you know about these… _vampires_?"

Draco knew exactly how to respond. "Yes, my Lord. But they posed little threat. I apologize for Tadris's foolishness." He let a little bit of his usual arrogance show into last sentence. It was mostly true; Draco had been able to operate without interference, but then again, he hadn't actually _seen_ the vampires. 

"Hmm," the Dark Lord stroked his long white fingers together. "I have been hearing about these _vampires_ causing a nuisance to our plans. They are no threat – but still, a nuisance." He emphasized the words 'no threat' and slammed a fist into his palm. "Who are these _vampires_ anyways? Vampires are only cursed blood-sucking corpses, easily taken down by a simple hex."

Without thinking, Draco blurted, "They're immortal." 

The Dark Lord spun around to stare at the Death Eater who dared to interrupt. But he let it go. 

"Yesss…immortal, if not…_undead_." He now sounded amused. "Damned to the night. I have not yet forgotten my own studies at Hogwarts, young master Malfoy," and he laughed, a high-pitched cackle that made hairs stand up on end. "But," he paused, "there must be a way to utilize this strange power. I have never met a real vampire face to face… but I have more power than before – thanks to young Harry Potter, who must be killed – there is no present need for any alliance with any magical creatures…" His lipless mouth paused. "Harlan Avery," turning to the Death Eater behind him. "I want you to find these…so-called _vampires_. Bring me back whatever intelligence you can collect. As for you, Draco. Find the Chang girl. If she is bold enough to try and trick Wormtail and Tadris – however stupid they are – she is a threat, and obviously not stupid enough to simple _die_ as Tadris claims…find her…no doubt she is a traitor, but bring her back if you can, otherwise, kill her, it matters not…"

Draco was silent as the Dark Lord went on to speak with some of the other Death Eaters. 

Then, finally, he finished talking about business matters. "Time for some entertainment. Shall we have some? I have an old friend I'm sure you'll all love to be re-acquainted to. Igor, please, come here…" 

A trembling gray-haired wizard tied with ropes was pushed into the center of the circle. Draco recognized him as Igor Karkaroff, the former Headmaster at Durmstrang Institute, a foreign magic school. He had visited Hogwarts several years ago for a Triwizard Tournament. He was looking as scared as hell, his robes were damp and unwashed, his face was scabbed, unshaved and dirty…and he was groveling horribly, screaming for forgiveness and sobbing excuses. 

"I believe Igor here has a circus routine to perform for us tonight," hissed the Dark Lord pitilessly. "Shall we have him swallow a sword? Balance knives in his eyes? _Imperio_!" 

_Evil,_ thought Draco. Karkaroff was being forced into doing humiliatingly back flips as the Death Eaters around him laughed. He could hear Wormtail and Tadris screaming some several dozen feet away, where Lucius was using the dreaded Cruciatus curse on him. Remorseless, pure evil. The true beauty of the Dark Arts. 

Draco began to laugh along, too.

~

"Aurgh…" Hermione groaned and rubbed her temples roughly. She sat up off the small temporary bed set in one of the back rooms of the Diagon Alley post office. The sun was shining dustily through the windows. She didn't get much sleep the night before, after being to the church during their nightly round. She hadn't been able to get the image of the red and black roses placed there on the church steps out of her mind. The roses for the priest killed by a dark force the muggles couldn't explain. _Vampires_, she thought. _Whatever_. 

 Still, the day was new again, and the world looked a lot bright from this side of the sun. 

A few feet away, Lavender murmured something in her sleep. It was still early. After sharing a dormitory with the same people for seven years, Hermione was still always the first up. She would have to be quiet.

A large ginger furball leapt stealthily up onto Hermione's lap. 

"Morning, Crookshanks," Hermione whispered to her cat. She petted Crookshanks lovingly on his squashy head. He purred and snuggled into her robes. _Great,_ Hermione thought. _Did I fall asleep in my robes again_? Hermione gently pushed Crookshanks off her lap and scooted under the bed expertly. 

Pulling on soft slippers, Hermione transfigured her watch (5:03 a.m.) into her suitcase, which flumped softly onto her bed. She opened in and pulled out socks, a pair of cream-colored slacks and a pink halter-top. As an afterthought, she took out a pink and gray sweater. Most of the muggle clothing her parents sent her were too dressy for the cold weather, but she still found it more or less more practical than witch's robes. 

Hermione crept outside of the room, stifled a yawn, and tiptoed into the bathroom. It was a small, windowless area designed originally for the employees. The sink was cracked and the shower was tiny. Hermione waved her wand a few times to light a magical candle and whiten the porcelain a little. She picked up a brush (Parvati's?) and a spray-can of Sleakeazy's. Her hair wasn't frizzy like it had been when she was younger, but it still took a bit of wrestling to get it smooth in the morning. 

After a foamy face scrub with a specially charmed towel and a good tooth-brushing, Hermione changed out of her wrinkling dirty robes and into her clean outfit. She stopped to examine herself in the mirror. _No zits…I think we're okay for today_.  

"You know, dear, a nice shower would do you well," offered the sink mirror.

"Not now, thanks. Work," Hermione said hurriedly, sounding slightly annoyed. She didn't smell _that_ bad.

"Or a little make-up? There's a nice pink lipstick that'll suit you real cute right behind me here," the mirror coaxed hopefully. 

Hermione rarely took the hassle to apply make-up, unless it was for a special occasion. Most of the stuff in the shelf were the essentials of Lavender, Parvati and Padma. She knew they wouldn't mind if she borrowed some…but aww, what was the point? Who was there to impress, anyways? Hermione rushed out of the bathroom without answering the mirror. 

Hermione stepped inside the office from the back door. The sun was tickling the mellow wooden floorboards. It was still frosty, though. Hermione pointed a few Warming Spells in the air to soothe the cold. She plopped down behind the large wooden desk and tapped a locked drawer with her wand.  

_"Ouvrirum_," she muttered, and it popped open.

Diagon Alley was pretty much deserted because of the war; most of the shop owners had moved back home to their families. The Leaky Cauldron and Gringotts, the goblin-operated bank (honestly, what did goblins have to fear?) were still open, but that was it. The post office was where Dumbledore allowed Hermione and the other Aurors to stay. They had to keep it operating and keep track of the post, sometimes even filtering it for information. 

Carefully, Hermione took out a plain sealed envelope and slit open a side using a pocketknife she always carried in her pocket with her quill and ink. Inside was a thick stack of parchment – NEWT practice exam. _Typical Hermione_, she thought self-mockingly, thinking of what the others would say if they saw her. She knew even Harry and Ron, her best friends since their first-year, wouldn't be able to stop themselves from rolling their eyes. Ron especially, would've given her a hard lashing of the sarcastic tongue. He was the one who really couldn't get used to her work habits. _Yeah, typical Hermione, doing final exams when there's a war going on_. 

But no matter. They didn't understand how utterly calming it was to immerse herself in her books, how supernaturally comforting it was. Hermione didn't have the qualities of the other girls in school: she wasn't much of a flirt and hardly knew how to attract boys in that way. Besides maybe a few dates, her love life wasn't very active. And why push it anyways? 

_But what about Ron? You had a chance with him!_ piped the unavoidably irritating voice in her head. _And what about Ron?! _She screamed back at it. Hermione shook her head and forced herself back to NEWTs. 

Besides, Hermione had her grades. Maybe it would be all she could ever have, but at least it was more reliable than boys and beauty. So, anyways, _Part One, present essay on the discussion of the innovations of Dirkwin Dindlewood…okay, think…Flying Charms, Levitating Spells…_     

A few minutes passed, and soon Hermione was scribbling away at the parchment with her eagle-quill, temporarily unaware of her surroundings. _Discuss: the cause of a child with extremely low magical potential (more commonly known as a 'squib') born to a wizarding family is a genetic disorder called –_

_RINNGGG_!! Hermione's attention suddenly turned to an alarm clock ringing on the wall. Six a.m. Suddenly, a swarm of owls swooped into the office, dropping their letters and packages onto the floor. 

"Oh great," she said out loud and started to pick them off the floor. Normally, it was Seamus's job to take care of the owls. _How does he do it?_ The owls were now screeching like mad, some settling onto their perches on the walls but some still dropping their packages. A small mountain of envelopes had piled up in the middle of the room with seconds. 

"Okay, okay. _Accio!_ _Accio_!" Hermione waved her wand at the envelopes and packages and started to guide them towards their respected bins. Most of them were flying properly towards the 'Local mail' and 'Long-distance' but one package zoomed towards her desk – 

"Oh, damn," she cursed, as her inkbottle hit the floor with a smash onto the floor. "_Reparo!_" It fixed itself, but the ink was still spreading onto some of the mail. "Geez! _Accio_!" It flew to her hand. "_Parchius!_" she said to it, and the ink dried up. 

Turning around, she started to send the other envelopes back into their boxes. The magically enhanced bins usually sorted themselves nicely, unless they couldn't read the addresses. One such package floated towards her. 

_Huh? Where's Sbane?_ Hermione wondered, frowning at the messy scrawl. _Sbane, sbane…Spain?_ She started looking for her quill, while still holding the package. Papers fluttered around her desk as Hermione brushed them away in search of a writing utensil. 

"Great, where'd it go?" she murmured to herself. She kneeled down to search under the desk and surrounded. "Huh?" Her eyes darted around the room in annoyance. She messed up her NEWT exam and walked all the way around the desk. 

"You have it!" she shrieked suddenly at an owl. "Hey, give that back!" Hermione reached for the small owl, who was now squabbling madly and circling around the shelves. It reminded her acutely of Ron's owl Pigwidgeon. Hermione started chasing around it stupidly. "Great, just great," she muttered. She raised her wand in the air and yelled, "_Accio_ quill!"  

"Finally!" Hermione fixed the mistake on the envelope and set the post owl onto his perch.  

_Great, where was I?_ Another package with a wrong address floated towards her. She grabbed it. _Arjinteena, arjinteena, Arg_ –

"Stop that!" Hermione dropped the package and started to try and pull two owls that were fighting, apart. The Great Horned owl was scratching her talons at a small barn owl that had stolen what looked like a small mouse. Grimacing, Hermione Summoned a box of Owl Treats over. Now all the owls started screeching madly. 

"Shut up, or none of you will get any!" Hermione hissed at them. They instantly settled down, much like a classroom of toddlers. "Good," Hermione breathed. She started breaking some treats apart and distributing them.

"Morning, Herm," came a cheerful female voice from the back door. Hermione turned around to see Lavender Brown in a purple velour robe looking at her. Her hair was perfect and she looked as if she had slept forever. _How can anyone wake up in the morning looking like that?_

"Oh, well, hi, Lav…" Hermione said hastily. 

Suddenly Lavender looked very tired as she saw Hermione's position in the room. "Damn, Hermione, do you have to be _working_ at this time?" 

Seamus Finnigan, also a fuzzy, blond-haired mess, joined Lavender at the door. He yawned widely. "Why are we up so early?" He eyed Hermione and the squawking owls warily. 

"Herm, are you actually taking care of the owls _now_? It's _six_," he accused.

Hermione looked around the room slowly. "Well, they came in, and were really excited and everything…" she began defensively. 

"That's because _you_ were in here," Seamus said matter-of-factly. "Usually I don't feed them until at least eight. It's _my_ job, remember?" 

"Yeah, when normal people get out of bed." Lavender said with a laugh. She stepped over to the desk and looked at the practice NEWT's Hermione had been doing. Before Hermione could step in front of her – 

"Oh my _god_, Hermione, what the hell were you doing?" Lavender's jaw dropped practically to the purple satin hem of her pretty robe. "Hermione, we are in a _war_! There is _no_ school! You are doing _NEWT's_. We were out until one last night, how can you -"

"Huh?" Seamus walked over to the desk, too. He shook his head as he saw the brown envelope. He looked as though he was about to open his mouth and give her the same sort of tirade as Lavender had, but instead, stuck to a simple, "Typical Hermoine, doing final exams when there's a war going on."

Hermione rolled her eyes, laughed it off lightly and walked passed her gawking friends and into the back room. You know, the routine reaction.

"Morning, everyone," she said dryly to the others, who were just coming into the kitchen. They all murmured their greetings, as none of them were really awake yet. The kitchen wasn't really a kitchen, but a few chairs and a table placed in a storage area. Actually, all their rooms were only storage areas.

Parvati, Padma and Dean were currently assembled around, slurping half-heartedly on what looking like runny oatmeal. 

"Hey, guess what Hermione was doing?" Lavender bounded into the room. 

"Who wants eggs?" Hermione said loudly, clearing her throat. 

"_NEWT practice exams,_" Lavender said, sounding very amazed. "Isn't she just mad?"

"I do!" Dean said, putting down his spoon. 

Hermione looked around at the dusty room. There were certainly no eggs to be seen. "How 'bout breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron?" 

"I'm up for that," Padma said brightly, and she put down her spoon as well. 

"Hermione, how can you do tests willingly at a time like this?" Lavender inquired, obviously caring more about Hermione doing practice exams than about eating. 

"They were just essays," Hermione replied with a shrug. She took a packet of ground coffee from the table and poured started to boil water in a kettle using a magical, no-fuel fire. 

"_Just_ essays?" Parvati cut in incredulously. "But how do you do it? Is that why you drink so much coffee? No wonder, Herm, I could never find the energy to do all that…"

Hermione sighed. Padma and Dean grinned at her. Parvati and Lavender were really the flirty, gossipy who could talk on for hours. They were the type who could make a situation like Neville Longbottom's toad running away seem like the Rita Skeeter gossip scoop of the year. Padma, Parvati's Ravenclaw twin, was a lot calmer in comparison. _She and Dean make a really good couple,_ Hermione decided. They were both balanced and thoughtful and very in love. 

Hermione poured herself a mug of coffee and set out the fire. Seamus came in and struck up a conversation with Parvati and Lavender, something about using his razor and sharing a bathroom with girls. Soon they had directed their attention to him and were giggling and flirting fiercely – typical before-we-have-to-worry-about-work conversation. Padma and Dean were talking quietly, Dean's arm gently touching Padma's waist. 

Hermione sipped slowly on the hot coffee. She missed having proper breakfast. Her own mother's hot apple pie, Mrs. Weasley's indulgent egg-and-sausage when she visited the Weasleys in the summer, cinnamon pancakes and waffles with butter at Hogwarts…

Breakfast at Hogwarts then reminded her of Harry and Ron. Sure, the Gryffindors and Padma were Hermione's friends, but it wasn't really the same as Harry and Ron. After all, the three of them were The Trio. She thought back to the last memory of breakfast she had with them, on that last day in Hogwarts. The grand hall had been filled with students and teachers saying last-minute emotional farewells to each other. The house-elves had outdone themselves, with the tables laid with everything from toast drowned in berries and syrup to apple crisps to sausages to creamy scrambled eggs to fried tomatoes and bacon…

But even more than the food, Hermione remembered the way Harry and Ron promised that they would always be friends. Harry's green eyes and Ron's brown ones were strangely clear, showing more genuine love than they had ever shown before. She herself was holding back her tears as she held their hands and hugged them both. 

It was Harry's fault now that they were apart. Dumbledore wanted him isolated for his own safety, even if he did continue work abroad, but Harry wanted to have at least having one companion with him as he went into hiding. Hermione suspected it was out of sexism that Harry didn't insist on bringing her too, which was just _stupid_, of course, she was just as capable as Ron…but Dumbledore didn't object…and now Hermione didn't even know Harry and Ron's location, in case she got interrogated with Veritaserum. It wasn't _fair_. 

_A lot of things are unfair,_ she thought. Hermione drained her coffee. Beside her, Dean was planting soft kisses on Padma's lips. 

"So!" she announced loudly, letting the mug hit the table with a rude _thwack_. "Are we all ready for work today?" She stood up to administer the others' attention. Dean and Padma snapped out of their lovers' trance, and Lavender and Parvati stopped giggling with Seamus. _Gee, sorry for waking you all up_. "Let's get to work! What about that letter to Dumbledore we were going to send?" 

~

AN: Nope, still not much excitement. A little more will happen in the next chapter, which will be centered mainly on Hermione. Actually, chapters 2 and 3 were originally meant to be one chapter, but I decided to split them up. Don't give up on me!!! 


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters. JKR's. 

A/N: Hi all! Wow, my third chapter already. I'm sorry these first few chapters are so information-centered, I can't wait to get over them myself. But still, I can't have a fic without a good plot. Parts of both the third and fourth chapters are dedicated the building of the plot. After about the first half of chap. 4, we might start seeing some Hermione/Draco…well, you'll see. 

Thanks to **Icy Stormz, MORNiNg StAR, Landry Anne, **Blanche Dubois, LuckyDuck**, IcyFire,** and of course **Mikomi Kume** and Pink Diary Girl. 

**LuckyDuck**: Harry will show up…later. He plays an important role in the plot of course, but not to the Hermione/Draco element. Hermione might have interactions with Voldie, yeah, but any Voldie-slaying, in my opinion, should be left for Harry. The fluffy couples? They are there to annoy and be hated. We might have some fun torturing them later (hint, hint). And yeah, the descriptive stuff must get out of the way soon *determined look*. 

Once again, thank you for sticking with me and reviewing! Reviews are a fan fiction author's best friend. Once again, don't give up on me. Hehe^^   

Chapter Three 

Half an hour later, Hermione was in the front office, with all the owls sent fed, watered and thus quieted. She and the others were sitting at the large wooden desk, and sorting mail. A silver Sneakoscope sat on the desk, waiting for something untrustworthy to show up. 

"Look, it's the Daily Prophet," Parvati announced, picking up their subscription newspaper from their pile. She surveyed it over, then passed it to Hermione. "Dammit, they won't stop reporting about that goddamned Russian Jobberknoll poaching case. How obvious can you be? It's not like no one knows about You-Know-Who…"

The headline read: _HINOVITCH TO ATTEND TRIAL_.

"Actually, I think we have some real news here," said Padma. She handed Hermione a brown envelope. News written by Harry and Ron was normally given to Hermione to read first.

_How are you? We're doing really well and we miss you a lot. _

_We are all here in a muggle village named Torchensend (or what's left of it). Nobody's here but us investigators. We are keeping all the news quiet. Torchensend is mostly a muggle village, except that it was founded by a wizard. A few retired wizards live here among them in their cottages here for the peacefullness. Last week, a group of Death Eaters came and set it all on fire. No one survived, and most of the houses were burned to the ground. Among the magical people who were killed were Gen and Mina Chang, the parents of Cho Chang - do you remember her? She graduated a year ahead of us. If it weren't for Cho Chang and Snape, none of the other Aurors or spies would have known._

_Hermione - Dumbledore wants you to go after Cho; we don't know why she left or where she's going but we need to warn her because the Death Eaters are after her. He'll be telling you about it later._

_ This is a really important case because we've just found out that Torchensend was once a center for the Dark Arts. It's such a nice place, you wouldn't know from its appearance. We know what Voldemort wants – these Dark Books written by some dead Torch (the wizard founder) that will help him live forever. Snape's helped a lot by being a spy. _

_We can't write too much more, but Dumbledore has some assignments he needs you for. We haven't found anything yet, though. Dumbledore and them will be telling you more Saturday._

_Don't bother trying to find us, Torchensend is Unplottable and you'll never find it unless you know. Alright, we think we're in Transylvania, but like said, don't try to find us. We need you there in Britain. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sirius and Remus will be coming over there Saturday morning by Floo, but we're sorry we can't. _

Hermione re-read the letter, then handed it to the others – after all, Harry and Ron hadn't put a single thing personal in there. The others read it and one by one, their mouths gaped open

"What do you suppose this all means?" Parvati asked first

"Are we powerless to help then, except to keep searching in London?" Dean.

"They're coming tomorrow morning?"

 "We can go to Flourish and Blott's to read on the history of Torchensend or something." Hermione suggested.

Soon, the six of them had left the post office and were entering Flourish & Blott's, a now-empty shop that once supplied them with writing tools and schoolbooks. None of them bothered asking Hermione why she had a spare key.

The rows of shelves of books brought a feeling of comfort for Hermione. Combined with the musty, mellow smell of wood, parchment, and cozy woolen upholstery, it was sheer heaven. 

"Remember, you guys, we still have to check out my hunch on the muggle place before we do anything about this Torch thing." Seamus reminded everybody, picking up a book from the shelf (_Useful Intelligence Charms, _by Hengeldwin Norfinwald_)_. 

Hermione nodded vaguely at Seamus.

There was a lot of information that needed to be researched on this new lead. Not only the history of Torchensend but these Dark Arts books Voldemort was after. What did Dumbledore want her to do? Well, she'd find out soon enough. Saturday? So, Dumbledore and the others would be there the next morning. 

_I'll be there._

"So then, that'll give us tonight to check out that old factory before they come tomorrow, huh?" Seamus said from across the table. Seamus had become very keen on his work. They were enjoying a meal in a magically shielded parlor in the Leaky Cauldron, having spent most of the day in Flourish and Blotts. Hermione had taken out a large pile of books for reading, including _European Wizarding Settlements_ by Odel von Huskin, _Advanced Dark History_ by Thieman Vissu. As an afterthought, she had also taken _Wooden Crosses, Fat Monks: A History of Muggle Religion Versus Magic_, by Hildegard Bastian and _Immortal Monsters: A Guide to Vampires and Defense Against Them_, by Carmin Stoke. 

"That's right." Hermione said, taking a bite of her garlic and herb schnitzel. She was grateful for a real meal. They weren't really supposed to eat out too often, though she didn't see much point in that, the soundproof parlor and Tom the barkeeper's guard seemed even safer than the post office.

"Mmmm," Lavender said, taking an indulgent bite of her chocolate scone. 

"I could really get used to this," Parvati gushed happily. She was looking equally happy as Lavender, adding extra butter to her scalloped potatoes. "Could we go to Madame Malkins' later? I think she's still keeping it open part time. There's a really cute pair of fuchsia sandals there that would totally match my new tank top!" She giggled and bounced energetically in her seat. 

"Hm? I thought Madame Malkins only sold custom school uniforms." Hermione replied absentmindedly, now sipping at her tomato soup. 

"Hermione! Where have you _been_?" Parvati groaned. 

"Don't think so, Parvati," Dean said evenly. "It's nearly dark, we shouldn't waste it."

Parvati groaned again, and pouted cutely at her sister's boyfriend. 

Hermione rolled her eyes.

In about fifteen minutes, the six reluctant Aurors had left the bar and had gotten their Dark Detectors out. They had mutually agreed against Invisibility Charms so that they wouldn't have trouble seeing each other. Seamus was filling them out on what he had heard the night before. 

The abandoned muggle factory was a large, dusty warehouse for making spare auto parts, surrounded by barred fences and No Trespassing signs. Seamus had picked up some sort of magic wave through a broken glass window. It made sense; the warehouse offered large open space that no muggles were interesting in entering. Looking inside with a _Lumos _spell from their wands, it looked empty except for large pieces of old debris.

"Put that light away," warned Hermione.

Five voices simultaneously commanded, "_Nox_". 

Seamus took out his Sneakoscope, Curse-Wave Tracker and Foe-Glass and set them all out on the gravel sidewalk so that they were out of the Invisibility Charm's field. Four murky figures appeared on the Foe-Glass, the Sneakoscope started to spin, the antennae began to vibrate. 

"We're onto something." Hermione whispered. She felt both excited and foreboded. 

"What are we going to do?" said Lavender. 

"Alright." Seamus said. "We don't know where they are, but we can be sure they're shielded, so Uncloaking Charms everywhere. If anything happens, Stunning Spells, Full-Body Binds, Impediments, whatever. Don't go in if you can do it from a window, and stay in your station around the building. I'll go northeast, Hermione, that window over by the fire escape. Lavender, take the alley…"

"And we should use a Welding Charm for the windows," Hermione added. "They're locked."

Shuffling of robes told Hermione that her friends were soon taking their places around the building. She ran to the edge of a window by the fire escape, as Seamus had ordered, and peered in, her heart pounding. 

"_Woldengeo_!" she hissed at the window. A very thin jet of flame came out of her wand and immediately left a red-hot line on the glass. Carefully, Hermione maneuvered her wand around in a large circle so that a piece of the window came apart. "_Accio_!" gently, it came out and flew towards her, leaving a good clean hole. 

_So far, so good,_ Hermione thought. She looked around the inside of the warehouse. It was light enough to see her friends. 

The warehouse was just an empty building, with only large room filled with old metal and concrete debris. Several cement pillars stood in the middle. If Hermione jumped in through the window, she would have to fall at least ten feet to hit the floor. It would be too loud. Now that her eyes were adjusting, she could see old machinery that had been abandoned with the building. She could also see a shape that was Parvati standing at a window on the northern side.

With a breath of trepidation, Hermione took out her wand and pointed at the ground. "_Finite visibilis_!" A stream of blue light shot down. 

Nothing!

Her heart pounded louder as she cried the words over and over "_Finite visibilis, finite visibilis, finitevisibilisfinitevisibilis_…" as she weaved the light over and over each square meter of space. _Nothing, nothing, nothing_…

Suddenly, a distant yell! More blue light was hitting every bit of space. What was the person saying? She couldn't hear over the yelling and couldn't see anything! 

"Ahhhh!" a scream. A man had come out of thin air, a wizard, and he had a wand. 

" _Stupefy_!" she screamed. Miss! A jet of brilliant light hit cement and left a dent in the ground. The man was running around now. She could hear other voices, all yelling the same thing she had. More dents in the ground! 

And now another man had come out of nowhere! 

"_Stupefy_!"

"_Stupefy_!" 

"_Stupefy_!"

He was down! 

"Get inside!" shouted a friend. _Right!_ Hermione pulled herself into the opening and leapt. _Soft! Soft!_ A voice in her head screamed with instinct. As soft as possible, Hermione's shoes hit the ground with a _thump_. Immediately, she leapt back up and pointed her wand at the first man. 

"Stupefy!" and then she ducked, getting herself low to the ground. 

"Dammit!" he growled. _I hit him?_

She could hear more people yelling. Hermione cast a quick temporary shield around herself and tried to hide in the shadows. There were four men in black running around. An invisible force field was starting to lose effect from where it had been hit with the spells. She could see her friends sending Stunning Spells at the Death Eaters. 

The man she had partially hit was running, clutching his arm. A jet of magic hit the ground where he pointed his wand. It was powerful, and sent him several feet into the air. He grabbed the windowsill with his good arm and hoisted himself up to the hole in the window.

_Shit, he's getting away!_ Hermione ran after him. Let the others deal with the others. 

She sent a powerful jet of magic to the ground and soon she was boosted into the air like he had. She scrambled onto the windowsill. He was outside already. 

Hermione pulled herself out of the window and trailed him. He was fast, bigger than her, and had a wand. 

"Get the hell out of there!" he was yelling. "They're Dumbledore's!"

"_Expelliarmus!_" Hermione screamed. 

"Argh!" the man spun around and made a wild grab for his wand as it flew away from him and towards the Auror attacking him.

_Yes_! Caught it. 

"_Impedimenta_!" she yelled. 

His disarmed man hit the pavement. Another man dressed in black crawled out of a window. 

"_Impedimenta!_" she screamed again. But this man was too fast. He left him friend and ran down the street. 

Hermione started after him. But she stopped, looking at the Death Eater that she had hexed. He was tried in vain to get up, but his legs were too weak. He cursed at her. Hermione stared at him for a few seconds, her heart pounding a hundred beats a second. From the warehouse, she could hear yelling and could see, from the corner of her eye, flashes of light. 

"Stupefy." She muttered at him, pointing her wand at him. He went limp and stop struggling. Hermione walked a bit closer. He was wearing muggle clothing and a dark mask. Hesitant, Hermione lifted it up to look at his face. He was middle-aged man Hermione didn't recognize. The tattoo on his arm showed that he was definitely a Death Eater. She grabbed the man by the shoulders and prepared to heave the unconscious body away.  

Then she froze. Someone was coming towards them, but not from inside the building. 

A muggle?

A black caped figure swooped gracefully towards where Hermione was crouched. _Get your wand ready!_ Screamed her Auror-trained conscience. But an odd feeling was filling her veins. Suddenly her arms felt as if they were made of jelly. The caped figure walked closer. She could see his face, taut, handsome and white as milk even in the darkness. His lips were very red and he was wearing all black. Something about him looked serene and calm and powerful. There was a strange power emanating from his very presence, a colorless glow. Hermione remained frozen, still gripping the Death Eater's shoulder. 

_Who is he? What is he doing here?_ She thought wildly. Ideas raced through her mind: run? Hex him? Ask him for his name?__

Hermione felt as though she had been in his trance for a long time but did not know how long and whether she could pull herself out of it. Everything except for him was muffled and insignificant. 

And then his lips parted ever so slightly, just enough to reveal a pair of very white, pointed canine teeth.   

_Vampire?_

He pulled his face close to hers so that she could look into his eyes. He lifted her chin with his black-gloved hands and his lips moved, but Hermione heard the words he spoke only as an echo in her mind:

"_Pretty girl. Let the man go._"


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Harry Potter. They're JKR's. 

Chapter Four

Hermione's grip on the Death Eater's shoulders sprung apart in an instant at the words. 

The atmosphere was still under the – vampire? –'s spell. She was now sitting helplessly on the pavement as the stranger came forward, his dark hair slicked back and his beautiful face still serene and unfazzled. She watched, still frozen, as the stranger picked the Death Eater up in his arms and walked off, his movement still inhumanly graceful. 

He turned and looked right at Hermione, almost as if to thank her. 

But she just sat there, watching a very mysterious person had come along and taken her captive away, just like that. Yet she still couldn't move, couldn't bring herself to run after him.

The man walked slowly and surely. It seemed to take a few seconds before the effects of his eerie presence faded a little. Then Hermione stood up hastily, her instinct forcing her to run a few steps after him. But he was gone. 

_What the hell just happened?_ She gripped her wand tightly, more in confusion that anything else. 

"Hermione!" 

She whirled around. It was Lavender. She hadn't realized they had all left the warehouse.  

"There you are! You're okay! Hermione, did you get any of them?" she asked. "I saw you run after one."

Hermione stared back into the direction that the stranger had gone. 

Lavender touched her arm. "Hermione – are you okay? You're shaking like mad!"

"Huh?" Hermione gave herself a mental slap. "Oh, oh yeah – oh, it's nothing!" she said quickly, trying to stop her hands from trembling. 

Lavender tugged on Hermione's sleeve. "We've got to go, Herm. Seamus and Dean caught one of them, but the others got away. I'm just glad we're all alive. We've got to get back and owl Dumbledore." 

Hermione nodded, her eyes still in the direction that the stranger had gone. 

None of them slept particularly well that night. They decided not to go back to the warehouse, assuming the other three Death Eaters had gone for backup. They decided to keep Dean and Seamus's captured Death Eater – a middle-aged, brown-haired male, tied and bound and wand-less until Dumbledore came the next morning, hopefully with some Truth Potion. They were feeling nervous, still, about having a Death Eater, even a knocked-out one, sleeping two rooms away. Eventually, after some late-night girl-talk, Lavender, Parvati and Padma fell asleep. Hermione didn't tell them about the strange person who had well, asked her to let the Death Eater go.

Was she crazy?

No, of course not. He had been real. He had pale skin, dark clothes, red lips, and had manipulated her into letting the Death Eater go. 

But who could have such manipulative powers? He wasn't hostile or scary. He was just there – a beautiful, supernatural being – somehow calming yet exciting in presence.

_Maybe I_ should _tell the others_, Hermione thought. Would it cause unnecessary panic? Would they think she was completely Augureys? Was he dangerous? Well, he was _definitely_ dangerous if he could confound her the way he did. 

By the next morning, Hermione hadn't slept a wink.

Her muscles ached from lack of rest. But she was up again with everyone else. The Death Eater was still unconscious. She went and sat down by the fireplace with the rest of them. 

At exactly seven o'clock, the fire shot up into high green flame and a tall, elderly wizard with a long white beard stepped out of it. Dumbledore.  

They all stood up. Then Minerva McGonagall, their strict Transfiguration teacher, head of Gryffindor House. Thirdly came Remus Lupin, their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor from their third- and sixth-years. Lastly stepped out Sirius Black, the once on-the-run-thought-to-be-guilty criminal from Azkaban, the man whom was accused of giving his best friends up to the Dark Lord – Harry's parents – and then causing his downfall. Although Hermione was used to him, the other junior Aurors took a slight step backwards when he arrived. Sirius Black's name wasn't officially cleared yet and they weren't exactly used to having an Azkaban runaway as one of their seniors. 

"How is everything going?" Dumbledore began with fatherly gentleness. 

They assured him everything was fine. 

"Then I won't hesitate to begin. If you have any discoveries of your own, we need until after we discuss the Torchensend arson. This is not a light matter. Voldemort – " flinches from around the room, " – is not a fool. This raid was committed in top secrecy. Had Cho Chang not be in contact with her parents, it would have taken weeks, even months before we were likely to find about it. This was not a raid to gain fear. Voldemort _was looking for something_.

"Firstly, someone must contact Cho Chang. Severus has informed me that Voldemort is now personally sending a servant after her. She needs to head east, best through Istanbul to Asia. Next, we have to discuss what Voldemort is after. Torchensend was the last village that Tom Riddle visited after he left Hogwarts before becoming Lord Voldemort. The Torches were a powerful Dark wizarding family there. Isiam Torch was the one that apprenticed Riddle many years ago. Voldemort's current body was created from an old concoction of dark materials including a type of elixir found the rock faces outside Torchensend's borders. If you know, Isiam Torch once worked with Nicholas Flamel in the studies of Alchemy. 

"I believe that the information to further reincarnation of an immortal life is hidden in one of Torch's books somewhere in one of the houses in Torchensend and that it has survived the fire. I believe that Voldemort is planning to search through the ashes and recover it to use. Torch wrote extensive books on Dark Magic, summarized into three large volumes, all of them gone now. Even information on these books is rare and must be researched carefully."

Dumbledore paused and looked for a response. Everyone in the room had gone silent. Then he continued. 

"I have reason to believe Isiam Torch was also a descendent of Salazar Slytherin and that the key to unlocking the books is in Parseltongue. Harry and Ron are, then, with us. Now. For a fact, at least two of the three books left in the Torch Mansion after Torch's death had disappeared among muggles living there at the time. We're not sure where they are, but they must be found and destroyed.

"And that is where we need you."

Everyone was staring at Dumbledore now with very blanched expressions. 

"We have to find them?" Hermione asked finally. 

Dumbledore looked at her, his aged, wrinkled face as serious as ever and said, "Yes. But it will not be idle searching. You will need to research this."

"You mean, research – in a library?" Padma said. 

Dumbledore nodded at her. "There are several extremely extensive libraries in Europe that contain millions of volumes of magical texts. It sounds easy, but no, even searching for information on the Torch Books is very difficult." 

"Well, if it has to be done, we're up for it." Hermione said. She could see Remus Lupin, McGonagall and Lavender smile. 

"Good. Then, more on that later." Dumbledore then seemed to turn more cheerful, which relaxed everybody. "Now, is there anything that _you_ have for me?" 

_Oh yeah, the Death Eater!_ The triumphant image of their hostage suddenly popped up in everyone's minds like a Patronus to a Dementor 

"Yes!" Dean cried. He stood up as if ready to present an A+ project in school. "We caught a Death Eater. Yesterday night – we raided a muggle warehouse and we caught him."

"Oh my," murmured McGonagall. 

"There were four of them. They were doing something there," piped Lavender. "Three of them got away, but we have one."

"Who is he?" asked Sirius sharply. 

"We don't know." Hermione replied. 

"Where is he now?" asked Remus, a lot gentler than Sirius. 

They eagerly lead the four older seniors into the kitchen, where the Death Eater was still sleeping. 

"_Enervate_," said Dumbledore, pointing it at him. The man stirred and tried to get up. Then he realized who he was looking at. 

"Dumbledore! H-hello! What are you doing here?" he was obviously panicking. "Where am I? Who are those kids?" 

"I know you!" Sirius suddenly pointed his finger right at the Death Eater. 

"Sirius Black!" the frightened man started to yell. 

"Ralondolph Mora! You worked at the Department of the Control of Muggle Weaponry office before becoming a Death Eater!" 

"Death Eater?" squealed Mora. Hermione noticed how much he resembled Peter Pettigrew four years ago at this point. "Who? Me? You must be mad…"

"Remus, untie his legs and bring him to St. Mungo's and give him a holding cell." Dumbledore ordered. Remus did as he was told and left through the fireplace.

"Excellent work." Dumbledore smiled distractedly at the Aurors and looked as though he was getting ready to go. "I'll give your assignments for the research later, but now it seems we have another issue to work with. As for Cho –" he looked at Hermione just as she was about to ask – "Hermione?"

_Why does he want me specifically?_ Hermione wondered, but swallowed her fears and nodded. "Yes – I'll go, Professor."

He gave her his interrogative X-ray look and said, "The owl she sent me was traced roughly to Hogwarts, which is currently empty. And there may be Death Eaters following her as well. It will dangerous, and you'll need to go tonight."

Hermione assured him that she wanted to go, so he gave her a piece of parchment containing directions to get to Hogwarts before he, McGonagall and Sirius left.

~

"Dammit, can't you fly any goddamn faster?" Draco snapped. He parked his old Nimbus 2001 in midair and turned to star back at Mr. Goyle and Mr. Macnair, who were flying at about the same speed as winged slugs. 

"Sorry, master Malfoy, my broom is slow…"

"No, it isn't!" Draco snarled. "_You_ are slow. Now get moving or we'll never get to Hogwarts."

He turned the broom around and went full-speed towards the dark patch of forest near the edge of the horizon. 

Draco was on his mission to kill that Chang girl. Lucius had insisted upon him bringing Goyle and Macnair, which, for Lucius, was about as fatherly protective as he could get. Information from Severus Snape had suggested that Chang might be at the abandoned Hogwarts castle, so Draco started flying towards the darker regions of Scotland the next night. 

Personally, Draco suspected Snape of being a spy for Dumbledore and was just pretending to be a spy for the Dark Lord. But the Dark Lord trusted Snape, so Draco didn't say anything. After years of living under Lucius's guidance, Draco knew to keep his mouth shut and not to meddle in business you don't completely understand. 

Under his sleeve, Draco checked his watch. It was about forty minutes after six. The sky was almost completely dark except for a sliver of moonlight. 

In exactly twelve minutes, two hours after Draco started out from the Malfoy Manor, a large muggle construction site came into view. Concentrating hard, Draco sped into the invisible field that guarded against naked muggle eyes, and the site became Hogwarts castle. 

Landing the Nimbus, Draco jumped onto the grass next to the stone walls. In the sky, he could see two other figures on brooms coming towards where he was. Ignoring them, Draco put his hand on the wall and walked a few steps around. The magical guard spells were weakening from lack of maintenance. 

There was a window close to his height. A weakness in the structure. Draco took out his wand, and aimed – 

_CRASH_. The window's glass was smashed. 

Draco hoisted himself up into the frame and into the castle. It was completely dark, but Draco recognized the main floor corridor, the high ceilings, the suits of armor, the doors leading to his old Transfiguration class. 

Hogwarts.  

~

…Torchensend is a small village in the Romanian part of Transylvania, founded by the wizard Balaam Torch in the fifteenth-century. Although it is now currently a vacation village largely populated by muggles, Torchensend's oak forests have been known to mine highly valuable quantities of a rare, powerful elixir. The Torch family has given many distributions to magical innovation…

…The most widespread of muggle religions is Christianity. Originating in the Middle East at around 0 B.C., it is now spread among muggles worldwide. Symbols of the faith include a cross and/or a dead man hanging from one (Jesus Christ). For full history of Christianity see chapter 10. 

Very, very few Christian wizards remain to this day, although Christmas, originally a Christian holiday, is still celebrated. The loss of magical followers to the Christian faith is largely due to the mass discrimination of witches during the Middle Ages by the Catholic Church (a religious group)…

_  …Vampires are some of rarest, most mysterious, most feared and most famed magical creatures. Strictly speaking, a vampire is a walking corpse that feeds upon human blood. Myths say that a vampire may be rid using garlic or a wooden stake, but generally, exposure to sunlight or burning is the most effective way to kill one, although a well-placed curse can easily take one down. Muggles in rural regions are most afraid and superstitious about these nocturnal corpses. Vampires have sharp fangs used for drawing blood out of a victim's neck or wrist, and pale, sickly faces. Unless forcefully destroyed, vampires are believed to be immortal…_

_My god, what time is it?_ Hermione rubbed her sore eyes. She had spent the entire afternoon reading in to Flourish and Blott's to read some of the books she had taken out. _Advanced Dark History_ had had absolutely nothing on the Torch Books. _European Wizarding Settlements_ contained a small piece on Torchensend, but Hermione had ended up reading on vampires and muggle religions instead. 

Looking at the darkening sky, Hermione packed up her books and went back towards the post office.

"Are you really going to go?" Lavender asked, once she was back. Hermione wolfed down a sandwich and drained another cup of coffee as she studied the map given by Dumbledore carefully.

"Yes." Was all she said. Hermione picked out some short black robes that she used for Auror training, a small dagger from Moody that she put into her belt, a long-distance Bluebottle broomstick of Seamus' (transfigured into a necklace), and of course, her wand. 

"When are going to go?" asked Parvati. "Now?"

Hermione pulled on the fighting robe (which she thought, self-consciously, made her look like a Japanese ninja). "Yeah, it's nearly dark."

"Oh." Said Parvati. "Well - good luck."

"Stay safe, okay?" Padma said emphatically. Dean, who had just come up and wrapped his arms around her, nodded in agreement at Hermione.

Hermione forced a smile. _Alright, remember, just follow the Hogwarts express tracks until you get to the crossing, then turn to the direction of the lake, fly another eight miles before you'll get to an abandoned building…_

 Hermione wasn't exactly looking forward to the mission. But for some reason, she just wanted to get away from the other Aurors for a while. It wasn't like she didn't love her friends, but she felt very…out of place. Besides, it was important and Dumbledore had asked – _someone _would have to do it. After saying goodbye, Hermione left Diagon Alley. She traveled by a muggle cab all the way to King's Cross, where she entered Platform 9¾.

It was completely deserted and dark. Hermione felt another chill as she looked at the unused tracks and thought about the Hogwarts Express that came to take them to school so many times before, to school with Harry and Ron… 

_SNAP OUT OF IT!_ She screamed at herself. Trying not to think about Hogwarts too much, she took out the necklace, and pointed at it with her wand. In an instant, it became a large, sturdy oak broom painted midnight blue with '_Bluebottle_' inscribed in silver on one end. She found it easier to mount than a racing broom, and climbed on, slowly gliding above the railway tracks. 

For about the next half and hour, cloaked by an invisibility charm, Hermione flew steadily towards the direction it lead her. She was going as quickly as possible, letting the gentle night wind cool her skin and her nerves. _I wonder if Cho's going to be there_, she thought to herself. _Then again, Dumbledore wouldn't have sent me if he didn't think she might be_. 

The night grew darker as Hermione flew on. There was peaceful countryside below her, homely in the moonlight. Slowly, the hours passed.

_…exposure to sunlight or burning is the most effective way to kill one, although a well-placed curse can easily take one down. Muggles in rural regions are most afraid and superstitious about these nocturnal corpses. Vampires have sharp fangs used for drawing blood out of a victim's neck or wrist and pale, sickly faces. Unless forcefully destroyed, vampires are believed to be immortal…_

"Stop thinking about the vampires," Hermione said out loud. Whenever she wasn't thinking about missing Hogwarts and her friends, that stupid vampire book was popping into her thoughts. She shouldn't have read it just before she left. _Think Death Eaters, not vampires, Granger_. 

Just then, Hermione saw the railroad track had split into two directions. She was nearly there. Hermione parked the broom in midair. The direction of the lake would take her to Hogwarts. It was eight miles northwest. 

In about ten minutes, Hermione saw a great dark forest, and some sort of ruin. Heart pounding, Hermione lowered herself and glided once again over the dirt road leading up to the front of the rubbly building. There was a _Do Not Enter_ sign hanging over it. Hermione held out her wand and muttered and incantation, and the door opened. 

Walking inside, the world changed. The fence had become a brick fortress, and the dirt path was now leading up to a grand castle, surrounded by a lake to one side and a forest to the other. There was no mistaking it.

She had arrived at Hogwarts.  

~ 

Draco paced around the large room. It had some comfortable couches surrounding some furniture. There was a fireplace that he had lit. Draco glared at it.

There was sure no way as hell Chang was in the castle. 

Draco had sent Goyle to help him search every possible room and Macnair to watch out in case the girl left or entered the castle. Draco himself had gone through most of the main areas himself, but the had no way of knowing all the secret nooks and crannies the castle hid.

They had been there for hours. She was not there.

Another thing he knew about being a Death Eater was to do what you are told with a closed mouth, and do it right. Or pay the price later.

It was nearly midnight. Draco glared at the cheerful fire and continued to pace. Where were the two imbeciles? If he didn't report any success on capturing Chang, it meant a lot of trouble. What was the big deal with her and the vampires anyways?

His cloak whooshing as he rounded a doorway, Draco stormed out into a wide hallway with vaulted ceilings and wooden pillars placed around the carpeted walkways. At the very end of the hall hung a large tapestry of a handsome old wizard riding a dragon. It was common Hogwarts knowledge that this tapestry was the entrance to a secret passageway that led to a tower on the west. It wasn't often used because Filch, the old caretaker had known about it, too. 

Suddenly, there was a shudder in the canvas. 

Blinking in surprise, Draco tensed, his wand out on guard. 

It wasn't the Chang girl. It wasn't Goyle or Macnair who walked out either.

She turned. Draco could see her face in the moonlight shining through the windows. The eyes, the lips, the expression, the curly brown hair – still clutching his wand, Draco's jaw dropped. He dodged behind a pillar just in time, but it couldn't – it couldn't be – 

_Granger?_


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: All my characters are JKR's – all hail. Well, the situations are my own. I'm not making any money off it.

Chapter Five 

_Shit_.

Hermione froze. 

_Oh my god_. 

She had come out of the passageway too fast in her haste of getting away from the Death Eater. 

A tall, platinum blond man was standing there in front of her, in the old study hall. And he could see her, too, and was eyeing her hard. She recognized him as an old school rival.

Of all the stupid situations she had gotten into lately, this had to be the worst.

~

Surprisingly, Hermione had found Cho Chang easily. She had been walking openly in the school corridors. Hermione followed the petite figure by cutting through with secret passages rather than directly through the open hallways.

Hermione had been wondering where Cho was going, but one final swish of her long raven hair told her that Cho had entered Moaning Myrtle's out-of-order washroom, the place Hermione, Harry and Ron had once used to plot their secret deeds.

Coming out from behind a statue of Annelie the Angry, Hermione stood at the doorway. Cho's back was to her, but Hermione saw her light a candle, and mutter a spell. Hermione watched as Cho seemed to be analyzing the sinks, tapping them with her wand. It took a second because Hermione realized that Cho might have been looking for the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. 

After a few minutes, Hermione took a cautious step inside and a nervous breath. "Cho?"

The small witch whirled around, wand brandished. 

"Please put the wand down," Hermione blurted. "It's me, I'm – I'm – well, Dumbledore sent me to find you." _Oh, smooth. You don't even know if it's the real her! It could be a disguise you know!_

Cho Chang's eyes widened as she peered at Hermione's face. "You went to Hogwarts, didn't you?"  

"Yes…" Hermione said awkwardly.  

Cho Chang lowered her wand only a little. "How do I know you're not an impostor?"

"I'm Harry's friend," Hermione said immediately. "I know you were a Ravenclaw prefect and Head Girl a year before I was." 

Cho paused, but put down her wand. Generally, she didn't look all that worried that Hermione might have been a fake. In fact, she broke into a smile. "Hermione Granger, right? I've heard about you, you're Harry's best friend, the really smart one?" 

Hermione nodded. Now that she was face-to-face with Cho, she was seeing the face of the old acquaintance more clearly. The flickering light from Cho's candle highlighted the delicate features of her porcelain doll face, reflecting off her shiny black hair and emphasized the folds of her midnight blue dress robes. She was very pretty; Hermione could see easily why Harry had had such a big crush on her as a preteen. Despite of herself, Hermione's eyes turned to the plain old training robe she was wearing, and tugged self-consciously at the hem. 

Cho glanced around quickly. "I wanted to stop at Hogwarts before I leave. I know that You-Know-Who is after me."

"Oh. Well, okay." Hermione began. "Dumbledore just wanted me to tell you that, to leave. Go to Asia, it'll be safer. You-Know-Who is sending Death Eaters after you…"

 "I know. Thanks for coming to warn me." Cho nodded and gave her a grateful smile. "I heard Moaning Myrtle's washroom had the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Well, she's gone off somewhere now –" 

"There's not much point in trying to get in," Hermione said. 

"No, I guess not." Cho said with a sigh.

"Why are you here?"

Cho's expression turned slightly urgent. "Hermione, you've got to tell Dumbledore about this. You-Know-Who is after something and I think it's hidden inside the chamber. You have to get to it before he does – "

They were interrupted by a noise outside. 

"Death Eaters!" hissed Cho. Hastily, she blew out her candle. "Hermione, just tell Dumbledore that, since there isn't any point in me trying to get in. But he'll find a way – anyways," She rushed away to the door. "Thanks again, Hermione." 

Before Hermione could reply, Cho had slipped out the door. Hermione followed after her, but peered out into an empty hallway. She could hear muffled male voices down to her left. There was a passageway that lead to a little-used studying hall behind the tapestry across from her. Hermione scooted forwards, and disappeared behind it. 

Hermione ran through the narrow walls quickly, and came to another tapestry door. She pulled it back, and burst into the hall it lead to. 

Unfortunately, someone was already in the room.

~

Draco tensed from behind the pillar and instead, came out to face her. 

_Granger_. 

There he was, standing in the middle of the empty, vaulted hall, and there _she_ was, at the doorway in the wall, holding the tapestry open with one hand. She was wearing some sort of tight black outfit that clung to her body, and her hair was all messy. From the looks of it, he surprised her as much as she surprised him.

They stood there for a few seconds, both of them tense, staring at each other. Draco wasn't really sure how to face her. 

"Malfoy," she said. It was a statement. 

"Granger," he growled back. 

In an instant, her wand was out. Draco drew his also.

"So then, Granger," he said carefully, "Come back to school to study?"

Her brown eyes flashed dangerously. "I see I haven't beaten you to it, Malfoy." 

Draco smirked. "Not so safe anymore without Hogwarts, is it, mudblood? You and your pathetic bodyguards scared yet? Oh wait, Scarhead and his sidekick aren't here, you're all alone."

Draco thought he saw Granger twitch slightly as she adjusted her grip on her wand, now pointed as his head. "I can protect myself, Malfoy." 

Draco jerked out of the way just as a flash of red light and the spell, "_Expelliarmus!_" zoomed past him. 

_You're asking for it now, aren't you?_

"If you want to duel, Granger, you should bow first," he said coldly. 

She glowered furiously at him. "Why don't you bow first then?" she retorted. 

"If you're a little more polite, Granger, maybe I'll be easier on you," Draco said smoothly. 

"How do you know if I'll be the one needing to be easier on _you_?" she snapped.

"Perfect little Head Girl; so sure of yourself," Draco _tsk_ed softly. A pink tinge went to her cheeks. Draco snickered under his breath.

"And what about you, Malfoy? Your father's not here to fight your battles for you," she said haughtily. With that, she yelled, "_Stupefy!"_

Malfoy dodged out of the way, just in time. He pointed his wand. An orange flame shot wards her. Hermione ducked, the fire barely missing her hair. 

Malfoy stood there, laughing at her. 

_Stay calm, Hermione, you've got to stay calm_, she thought. But her heart started to pound faster against her will. 

"_Hydrogena!_" A blast of water shot towards Malfoy. 

Malfoy cried out as it hit him in the face. _Yes_! Hermione thought triumphantly. _Water over fire_! 

But the Water Spell was hardly strong enough to keep Malfoy down. He now looked angrier than ever. With his blond hair loose and plastered to his forehead, he wiped the water from his eyes. 

Hermione aimed to Leg-Lock Malfoy. But he was ready; he jumped out of the way. 

"_Sabernicum_!" Malfoy yelled. Hermione couldn't help screaming as a sharp blade shot out the end of Malfoy's wand and neared seared her in the side. 

She scrambled up.

"_Serpensortia_!" 

A black serpent came out of Malfoy's wand and immediately towards Hermione. It wrapped itself around her leg and up her torso to her neck. 

_Don't move, don't look scared._ Malfoy smirked at her. The snake's warm body was around her neck, waiting for orders to bite its victim. _If you look scared it's going to bite you_! 

"As soon as I order it, it will bite." Malfoy said casually. "It is poisonous."

Hermione bit hard on her bottom lip. _Don't. Look. Scared._

"The poison will take time to kill me. I can still kill you first," she said.

Malfoy turned his ugly smirk directly to her. "Goody-little Granger, I hardly believe you or your little Auror friends would know an _illegal_ dark curse, much less use them." 

Hermione glared back at him. 

"Don't make me use the Cruciatus on you, mudblood." He said, sounding bored. "It would hurt."

The snake twisted harder around Hermione's neck. _It's just an illusion_. Hermione subtly pointed her wand towards it and muttered a reversing spell. To her relief, the snake disappeared.

"_Expelliarmus_!" she yelled. But Malfoy had yelled it at the same time! She felt her wand force itself away from her fingers and a _clack_ as both their wands collided in midair and fall to ground, roll away from them, all the way across the room. 

Hermione panicked and ran after her wand. 

Malfoy jumped at her and grabbed her by her shoulder. 

She thrust a fist over at him. Useless. Hermione kicked at his shins desperately. Malfoy grabbed her left wrist. She tried to move towards the two wands a few meters away, but he wouldn't let go of her. If she could get to the wands, she could throw his out the window and fly away…

"Tell me why you're here." Malfoy ordered. 

"Why don't you tell me then," she said. "Let go."

"Don't you know it's dangerous here, with all these Death Eaters running around?" Malfoy said mockingly sweetly. He wrapped his other arm around her waist to further restrain her. 

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione hissed. "And it's none of your business."

Malfoy tightened his arm around her. Then he leaned over her shoulder to whisper into her ear. "You'd be much safer off with Potter and Weasley to save you from any…Death Eaters that might want to hurt you."

She felt his breath on her ear. Hermione shivered. They were words of advice; but from him in this situation it was a mock. 

"Let me go," she said through gritted teeth. Hermione aimed an awkward backhand slap over her left shoulder. Malfoy immediately pulled away from her, yanking by the wrist away from the wands. He dived for them. In a crazy instant, Hermione jumped onto Malfoy's back and hooked onto his neck with her arm. 

"Ahh!" he yelled. Malfoy pushed Hermione off him and pinned her down onto the ground. 

He now had Hermione in an awkward, unmovable position. He held her by the arms down, his knee pinning her legs to the floor. His wet blond hair was dangling down, just a few inches from her face. Hermione was helpless but she turned her head far to one side and refused to look up at him. 

A few moments of silence followed. Only their breathing could be heard.

"Let…me…go," Hermione forced herself to say. 

"I should bring you to my master." Malfoy told her quietly. "He would want to have you as a captive, and be very happy with me, don't you think?" 

Bring her to his master? He could _kill_ her on the spot if he wanted to. 

Though he'd had to do it without magic and she would put up a fight. 

A very feeble fight. Hermione was good at martial arts, but she wasn't exactly willing to bet that she could beat Malfoy.  

Oh god.

Draco was trying to think of something to do. He had her, Hermione Granger, pinned underneath him on the floor almost completely in his power. He didn't have his wand, but neither did she. But he could still torture her, kill her, give her up, whatever he wanted… 

Her face was turned far to the left, defiantly refusing to make eye contact with him. Her hair was as tousled as ever, a stray strand hanging over her face. The roots of her hair were slightly damp from perspiration. Her berry-red lips were pursed stubbornly. Their bodies were frighteningly close. Draco could see the profile of her face shape, her cheeks and long eyelashes. 

The short robes and leggings she was wearing were plain, but was tight and showed off her curves. 

He could ravage her right there. 

Hmm…that was an idea.

A sudden image suddenly entered Draco's mind. They were in that same position there then, but her robes would be open and she would be lying on them naked. Her white skin would be warm on the cold stone. He would have her sweating hard and gasping for breath. Her breasts would be heaving, her nipples erect and her legs would rub against his body and he could press himself against her and lay hard kisses over her lips and neck and her fingers would be in his hair and he would… 

_Bang!_

Dammit, someone was at the door. 

~

A/N: Yay! They finally met. I really hope that wasn't too cliché for a Hermione/Draco first meeting! If it was, I'm sorry! And whoops…cliffhanger. Anyways, if you think that was too cliché, please tell me so in your review. 

Thanks to everyone who reviewed my other chapters!! Lena, Katte, hyper_shark, Late-Summer-Night, Blanche Dubois, Landry Anne, LuckyDuck, scythefire, Sucker For Romance, snow_queen, draco-lover, Sora Ketsueki, of course Hell's Hauntress, hyde, and Mikomi Kume, and unfortunately, Metallic Angel, Potterfan, No-name and Master Woo. Keep on reviewing! Love lots.

And special thanks to Hell's Hauntress for publishing them for me while I was on vacation in Europe. Now that I'm back, I've got a lot better idea of what London, Paris, Rome and other cities look like (hmm, Draco and Hermione's European honeymoon, not a bad idea…) As well, thanks to Hell's Hauntress and Mikomi Kume for beta-work.


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters belong to JKR, not me. 

Additional disclaimer: The muggle song lyrics I referred to belong to Ashanti and Ja-Rule, also not me.

A/N: This chapter is pretty short, but the next one will be a longer one, as well as very important. I was delayed publishing because I wanted to finish the next chapter first. Thanks to reviewers, Late-Summer-Night, Sucker for Romance, HermioneG89, purple pie, Silver, Lauren, hyper_shark, Blanche Dubois, IcyFire, dobbie-loves-sweeties, Sora Ketsueki, MaryAnne177 Really? You think this fic is like that 'A Dragon's Feast'?, CjD, Landry Anne, Lena, and of course Hell's Hauntress and Mikomi Kume. 

Keep on reviewing! I love getting them =D

**Important note:** I think DIC's genre should be changed from Romance/Drama to Romance/Action/Adventure. Oh well. I'm not going to change it, but the genre of this fic is officially now **Romance/Action/Adventure.**

Chapter Six 

"Master Malfoy?" 

"WHAT?" roared Malfoy. "_I am busy_!"__

_Shit! He's coming in_!

Hermione felt herself being renewed with adrenaline-pumped fear. She had to get out of here. It was one thing to get caught by Draco Malfoy, quite another to get caught by some other Death Eater. She couldn't be discovered.  Forgetting about Malfoy's weight holding her down, she struggled to get away. To her surprise, he didn't try to restrain her.

Hermione dashed to get her wand. Her other hand yanked Seamus's necklace off her neck and she stammered out the incantation. It became a broom again and she leapt to the windowsill, ready to fly away.  

But something was not right. 

Why had he let her go?

She turned around. Malfoy's eyes caught her own, his chiseled, angular, pale face staying cold and unsmiling. He stared at her stonily, as if daring her to go, but still didn't make an effort to stop her from leaving. 

Hermione, for some reason, hesitated. Maybe it was a trap, maybe, if she tried to leave, she would get caught in some sort of blocking spell. Hermione bit her lower lip. Was he seriously going to let her go, just like that? 

_Bang, bang!_

The person at the door was knocking again. God, if she didn't get moving, she'd up staying there and get caught. Hermione pulled her eyes away and decided not to take the chance. She kicked off the broom and into the night. This was not the mission to duel with Malfoy.

"May I come in?" muttered Goyle.

Draco swore loudly and hit the door hard with his fist. "What – the – fuck – do – you – want?" 

Draco scowled and ran his fingers through his hair, still wet from Hermione Granger's little water hex. He had had Granger _right_ there. Out of a random stroke of luck, they had met, and he had _had_ her. He had had her without her wand, lying helplessly on the ground…and this damned idiot had to ruin it!

"This is important," Goyle grunted.

"Argh!" Angrily, Draco yanked the door open and the enormous lump of a Death Eater Goyle stumbled in. 

"We, uh, saw the girl. She was running away." 

_Dammit_, Draco thought. Oh yeah, _her_. _That_ girl, the one he was _supposed_ to be after.

"Whatever, I'm on it." He said with a disgruntled sigh.

Thirty minutes later, Draco was sulking down a cobblestone road in a muggle district after following Cho Chang on broom. Where she led him to, he didn't really care. Sure, if he didn't catch her, he'd be in serious trouble with the Dark Lord, but those worries were obsolete.

_Granger_.

_Hermione Granger_. 

It had been re-freshening. Holding her down on the floor in a darkened room. No wands. Forget dueling. Just ripping her robes open and attacking what was underneath. Draco felt a bit of a hot flush down to the lower part of his body thinking about it. Why _had_ he let her go? Did he think it could have been anyone other than one of his stupid co-workers? _Dammit_, why didn't he simply hold her down while he sent Goyle away and then gone back to finish the damned job? 

He could still picture clearly in his mind the image of her face, the expression on her face as she forced herself not to look at him. She was so determined, stubborn. And he couldn't get the image out of his head.

Back in reality, Chang stepped into an average-looking building. Draco absentmindedly followed her inside; it seemed to be a bar of some sort. Inside, it was crowded with muggles dancing raucously to loud music. Draco grimaced. "_I'm not always there when you call, but I'm always on time…_" sang a pretty, feminine voice, followed by a male line of which the lyrics Draco could not decipher.  

Did Hermione Granger dance well to muggle music? _Probably_, thought Draco. Considering how good she was at everything, she'd probably make even music as horrible as this seem wonderful with her moves, she'd be amazing to watch… 

"Hey there, handsome." A short, chubby barmaid said over the music, winking cheekily at Draco. "Can I getcha anything ta-night, honey?" 

"No thanks," Draco said stiffly. He had to get his mind back to work. He spotted Cho Chang again, weaving through the crowd, and hurried after her. 

Draco followed her into the back of the building, past a muggle bathroom and down a hallway. They went through a few more doors marked in red lights 'Exit' before stopping at the end of the hall. There, stood an enormous ebony door carved intricately with smooth figures of Greek deities and flowers. It clashed horribly with the linoleum floor. Draco watched as Cho Chang stepped inside. Was it a door only visible to wizards? Or did muggles have really strange taste that he didn't know about?

Draco ran forwards and caught the door before it slammed shut. The doorknob was brass, covered with shapes of flowers and leaves. Draco stood there a waited a few seconds before opening it a crack and going inside.

The room was large, lit by a few candles. The throb of the nightclub had long ceased. Draco halted. It _did_ seem to be a wizard's home. The room was richly decorated, with elegant Louis XVI-style furnishing on the velvety red-and-gold carpet. Porcelain statuettes of nymphs adorned the fine wood tables. Chang's back was still turned to him. _Maybe I should just hex her and get it over with_, Draco thought lazily, _skip the damned duel_. Even though it wouldn't be fair. Then again, he wasn't in the mood to have a proper fight.  

Just then, she turned around and saw him. In his lightning-fast reaction time, Draco grabbed his wand and sent three lightning-fast thin cables towards her. 

_SNAP!_

The cables were whacked aside. 

Draco blinked. 

"What are you doing here?" Chang shrieked. She was at least three meters away from where she was standing before. Had Draco missed by that much?  Or did she _move_ that fast? How could – 

_THWACK! THWACK!_

Draco's entire body hit the wall behind him before he realized it was _him_ being tied down by _her_. But it was impossible! She moved too fast – 

"_You_!" she cried accusingly. 

"Cho?" someone else had walked in the room. 

A tall man with very dark brown hair walked into the large room from another door. He was wearing a long black muggle jacket, not wizard robes. He had on a light-colored shirt underneath, orange in the glow of the candlelight. 

"What is it, Ankar?" the small black-haired witch asked, turning to him. 

"You have a visitor?" the man asked pleasantly. 

"Apparently," she replied coldly. "A stupid little one of those so-called _Death Eaters_ by the name of Draco Malfoy." 

~

"Hermione!" Lavender bounded over and hugged her. 

"We're glad you're safe," Seamus remarked from behind Lavender's shoulder. 

It wasn't quite dawn yet when Hermione had just arrived back from Hogwarts. The warm greeting felt a bit more comforting than being in the castle with a vicious Death Eater. Hermione's knees still felt slightly weak from her unexpected meeting with Draco Malfoy. 

"How did it go?" asked Dean. 

"Alright. I found her," Hermione replied simply. 

"Just so you know, we have an assignment tonight, a raid on the muggle thing," Dean continued. "And one on Monday night, too, Dumbledore wants us to find –"

"Dean, she doesn't want to know about _that_ now." interrupted Padma, touching Hermione's arm concernedly. "Are you okay? You're all pale,"  

"You look like you've just had an encounter with a ghost," observed Seamus. 

"Or a boy," added Parvati, winking. 

"Yeah," Lavender said somewhat sarcastically, "A really _horrible_ one." 

Unfortunately, Hermione thought, Parvati and Lavender's guess was closer. Which put her into a very tired mood. She excused herself and slumped to her bed, pulling the covers over her head. She reached over to Crookshanks, to try to fall asleep without imagining Draco Malfoy touching her.

"Hermione!" Lavender cried. Hermione winced as Lavender hopped into her room and sat down beside her on the bed and shook her. She did _not_ want to talk to anybody. "Come on, you can't go to sleep! I know you're tired, but Harry and Ron are coming today!"

"Harry and _Ron_?" Hermione groaned. _Yeah, right_. 

"I'm serious!" Lavender insisted. Hermione looked at her doubtfully. 

"I don't believe you," she said flatly. 

"I'm not joking, I swear!" Hermione surveyed her again. Lavender gave her an earnest smile. "Why would Harry and Ron come today?" she asked suspiciously. 

"Well…it's because Dumbledore wants us together for that stupid raid," Parvati said apologetically. "But, still, you'll get to talk to them first. I know how much you miss them." 

Hermione sat up. "They're really coming then? You're sure?"

Parvati laughed. "Of course!" 

"Yes!" Hermione grinned ear-to-ear and hugged Parvati. She felt sorry for not wanting to be with her friends. Harry and Ron were coming! Hermione leapt out of bed. All the resentment and frustration and thoughts of Malfoy vented out of Hermione's system as she leapt out of the hall in a very un-Hermione-like way and treated herself to a shower. It was nowhere near as comfortable as the bathrooms in Hogwarts, but Hermione found it amazingly invigorating.

"Are you sure you don't want any make-up?" whined the bathroom mirror. 

"Yes I do today!" Hermione cried. It was only Harry and Ron – she knew she was overreacting, but she hadn't seem them in weeks and she had no idea how much she missed them and – oh yes! They were visiting!

She put on lip-gloss, blush, _and_ mascara. It was a lot for Hermione. She went downstairs for everyone to see. 

"Whoa – Hermione – you look so pretty!" exclaimed Padma when she came downstairs. Hermione was dressed in a thick blue turtleneck sweater and denim flares. 

"Are you wearing make-up?" asked Parvati in disbelief. "_My _make-up? Well, never mind, it looks great!"

The other three girls positively beamed. Hermione grinned again and sank into a chair. "When are they arriving?" 

"Around noon." Dean said. "And it _is_ for work."

"Oh, lighten up!" Padma scolded playfully, giving him a push in the shoulder.

Hermione sighed happily, her heart fluttering in excitement. 

"I had no idea Harry and Ron visiting would excite you that much," grumbled Seamus.  

Noon came within a few quick hours. A stir from the fireplace told them that they had arrived. Hermione rushed to the front office. A dusty, redheaded young man walked out. 

"_RON!!!!!!_" Hermione screamed. She ran up to him and threw herself into his arms. 

"Hermione!" he gasped. 

She buried her face in his shoulder because he was so tall. She hugged him so hard she thought she might have been suffocating him. "I missed you, I missed you, I missed you!" she murmured into his sweater. Ron wrapped his arms around her waist as well. The feel of Ron in her arms and his arms around her and the familiar smell of his skin was overwhelming.

"I've missed you, too," he managed to say. Hermione pulled herself away to survey his face. He hadn't changed much (it _had_ only been a few weeks, just seemed much longer), he was still very freckly, with that bit of orange stubble on his chin, he still had that rough little boy look, and had he grown even taller? Hermione looked into his watery brown eyes and almost lost it. She reached over and planted a kiss on both his cheeks, causing him to flush bright red. _I love you, I love you, I love you!_ She wanted to say. Ron! He was her brother, a best friend, almost more than - 

"Hey, what about me?" Hermione looked and saw Harry standing behind Ron,  

"HARRY!!!" Hermione peeled herself away from Ron to throw herself at Harry. Harry grinned and spun her around in their hug. 

"I've missed you, too!" she cried. Hermione leaned up and gave Harry a kiss on each cheek as well. Harry hadn't changed either; his hair was still messy, and he still had his glasses and green eyes. She loved them both so much…

"It's been a long few weeks, hasn't it?" asked a gentle, familiar voice. It was Remus Lupin. 

Hermione realized that Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sirius, and Remus were all assembled in the room. She blushed, but was on a roll and happily gave each of them a hug as well. Soon it had contagiously spread and soon everyone was hugging everyone else. 

"Now, don't forget, this isn't a time for a family reunion," McGonagall said with a small chuckle, reminding everyone what the real point of the visit was for. 

"Of course not!" Hermione exclaimed, as they all went to sit down to discuss the assignment. Her whole body tingled with warmth. The war was miles away, it was too safe and happy with Harry and Ron there. She was with her family again. She caught both of their glances and they grinned at her. She broke into another glowing smile and couldn't help but sit lean closer to Ron as she sat between them. To her pleasure, Ron reached over and briefly squeezed her hand affectionately. 

"Professor Dumbledore?" Ron asked politely. "Could I have a moment alone with Hermione?" 

Dumbledore nodded, and Ron took Hermione by the hand out of the room.

"Hey 'Mione," he said softly. He was now holding both of her hands. Hermione watched him intently. She loved Ron, and she knew he loved her back, but did they did perhaps have feeling more than just the brotherly kind? 

They stood there for a while, not speaking. It was a friendly silence, a moment for two friends to share. But why were they holding hands? And why did Ron look so slightly nervous? 

"Look, 'Mione," he began. "Y-you're my best friend. Well, I mean I – " He trailed off and looked lost for words. _Make him say it,_ Hermione thought to herself. _Don't do anything. Just make him get through with it_. It was the smart thing to do, make him say what he wanted to say. But Hermione could not resist hugging him. Ron seemed to relax. 

Whether Ron thought they were 'just friends' or not remained stillborn. 

~

Draco was tied to the wall by Cho's curse. Another man had joined them. 

"Typical Death Eaters. You're so stupid, so blind! All you want is _power_ – that fool, Voldemort, does he really think he can become _immortal_ by killing _innocent_ people? You think _you_ can have that power by following him?" spat the shrill, feminine voice of Cho Chang. Draco looked warily at her. Her delicate oriental features were twisted into an ugly scowl. This was the Hogwarts Head Girl last year, the popular little goody-two shoes that used to play Draco at Quidditch. 

"Who is he?" asked the first man curiously. He was tall one with dark-hair. He looked amused. 

"Draco Malfoy, Lucius's son." Sneered the other. This one was shorter, with lighter hair.  "It's sewn into his robe pocket. I used to know them. He must be here to avenge us for the time we met them at Torchensend." 

"I know who he is, Bardot," Cho said, softening a little. "And damn them. They must have sent him after me." She sighed. "But it doesn't matter anymore, I'm leaving."

"I can't believe you fear Voldemort, Cho," said the taller man. 

"I don't _fear_ Voldemort. Ankar, my parents are dead. I don't want to have anything to do with this stupid mortal war anymore," replied Chang. 

Draco glowered at the three people in front of him. There was nothing he could say. He was in a humiliating position; anything he said would sound very stupid right now. How had Cho managed to curse him? He was one of the best duelers he knew; it was expected of a Malfoy. And who were the two men? They weren't Aurors, that was for sure. Something was strange about all three of them, something Draco couldn't really put a finger on. Their skin was the bright white of unicorns, but more hostile. Their eyes were dark and shrouded yet bright, and when they stood still, their facial features stood out dreamily, as if coming out of a romantic Renaissance painting like those Draco had seen in a magical museum. What was it? 

Draco didn't like it. Maybe it had been stupid to follow Chang. But what the hell could he do? He had to find a way out. 

"What do you suggest we do with him?" asked Ankar to Chang. 

"I don't care," she answered savagely. "Lowlife, backstabbing Death Eater. It's just a stupid boy I went to school with. Take him, if you haven't fed yet. I'm leaving." 

Draco felt a flare of anger at the insult. And what the hell did she mean by '_fed_'?

Cho Chang exchanged a goodbye with the others and turned around and walked out of the door.

"He's young. He looks only about my age when…" Bardot began. "It would be a pity…"

The taller man, Ankar, walked up to Draco and looked him carefully in the eye, like a gentle uncle to a small nephew. 

"Draco," he said softly. "Do you know who, or what, I am?" 

Draco felt his eyes drawn to the man's beautiful face, refined manner and his light-colored lips, and fangs…? Then it hit him -  

"I am a vampire."

~

Another A/N: The fluffy little scene with Harry and Ron was not planned, it was written impromptu during a fit of joy ;) My references to the vampires will have some base to the rules set by Anne Rice in the Vampire Chronicles. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. They belong to JKR. Nor do I own the Louvre Museum, or the vampires – they belong to Anne Rice.

Author's Note: This chapter is a lot longer than the previous ones. It's quite important for the transition. This fic was meant to be a novel-length, but the first few I split into shorter sections that what I planned. I understand it's still moving a little slow. I'm starting to think I should have listed Romance as the secondary genre, after Action-Adventure or Drama. But please be patient. 

Thanks to everyone who reviewed: Amiastine, E-Chan (twice), Adsila Dracoccia, crazychick77, Landry Anne, Aphrodite, Blanche Dubois, Sally all in black, MaryAnne177, Pucca, MiaMaria, Lena, and of course, Hell's Hauntress ;) 

**Sally all in Black: **Vampires, evil? Of course not! =D

**Landry Anne**: Thanks for always reviewing ;) 

**Blanche Dubois**: Hmm…I know you really want the "steamy scenes". Hmm…my plot won't have too many of them and when they do come, it'll be a little later. It is a love story, but not an especially sexual one.  

Big thanks to **Hell's Hauntress** for beta-ing. Had to send it back about three times before I got it right ^^".  

Chapter Seven 

Hermione didn't really know what had happened between her and Ron back in the post office. Was she really expecting him to confess that he loved her? That even though they were best friends he had had a giant crush on her the whole seven years they had known each other? 

Sort of. 

She had _wanted_ him to. Maybe he _was_ going to say it, but she had ruined it for herself by hugging him and letting him off. _Granger, you are just clueless_, she thought crossly. 

They were sitting in a magical escort taxi, driving through the bustling streets of London. To the muggles outside, it would appear to be an ordinary Rolls Royce, but inside, it expanded to fit all of them. 

It was an awkward way to get to a raid, really. A rich muggle collector supposedly had possessed one of the Dark Torch Books and was exhibiting them and they had to go undercover. 

Normally, such an exciting mission would have aroused Hermione's interest and she would have been researching for it intently. After all, they were _spies_, Aurors, the real thing. 

But Hermione couldn't really concentrate. There was a pamphlet for the exhibition that she had buried her face in. It talked about the old man's mansion and his guests. Hermione pretended to be reading. 

But how could she if Ron kept flirting with Lavender in the backseat???

"Ahem," Ron said, clearing his throat in an imitation of a haughty French gentleman. "As you know, m'dear, I am extremely wealthy, and would be honored if you would dance with me." 

Lavender giggled. "I'd love to, handsome sir. But I fear that I may wrinkle my fabulously expensive Fairanarti gown."

Ron and Lavender laughed. They were supposed to 'blend' in with the crowd (which would made up of muggle millionaire friends of the host) and were 'practicing' for the part. They were only doing it to pass the time, but still…Hermione forced herself to focus so hard on the pamphlet ('objects of extreme rarity owned by Mr. Crenshaw Ord') that the words blurred before her eyes. 

Whatever feelings of warm fuzziness she had in the afternoon with Ron was pretty much gone now.

His show of attention for her earlier was probably just friendship, nothing more. Nothing more. 

"Hermione?" asked Remus Lupin, peering over her shoulder. 

"Yeah?" she answered distractedly, looking up. 

"You've been staring at that same page for about half an hour," he said gently.

"Are you feeling okay?" Harry leaned in from Remus's right.  Hermione flushed. Remus and Harry were so _conscientious_.  

"I'm fine!" she said, a little louder than she meant to. She quickly flipped the page. "I was um…looking at the nice painting in the front of the pamphlet." 

"Well, let's go over our parts," Remus said kindly. "Don't forget what we talked about. If by any chance, Voldemort appears, we need you to help evacuate everyone…" 

Hermione nodded. They had been through the routine countless times already. 

"Remus, we've been over this way too many times," Harry said. 

Remus sighed. "I know. I know you're all able young wizards, but we don't know if Voldemort is going to show up, and I'm still worried about you. Being an Auror is dangerous work."

Hermione tried to ignore the sound of Parvati's playful slap on Ron's arm and Ron's laugh and to listen to Remus. He had been one of her favorite teacher after he came back after their fifth year and was a personal friend of hers, and she genuinely respected him.

"It's okay, Remus. We'll be okay. After all, we've had a lot of experience, haven't we?"

After Harry reassured him as well and Remus looked satisfied. 

In about another hour, they reached a district filled with muggle mansions. There was a particularly large one crowded with a lot of cars in front, assumedly of guests attending the event. 

_What kind of muggle would want to exhibit Dark Arts items anyways? _Hermione wondered.

"Harry, Sirius, Remus and Minerva will come with me," Dumbledore said. "For now, the rest of you just keep the muggles away from any danger…if it does present itself."

Hermione Apparated into the mansion's grounds. She would somehow have to pose as a magician in the magic show (a completely absurd form of muggle entertainment). 

Hermione then Apparated into the building's north wing, landing neatly behind a marble pillar. 

The mansion was enormous. The floors were shiny with marble tiling, the windows on the high ceilings letting in plenty of light. Women in expensive dresses and men in tuxedoes were scattered about the wide hall. Tables covered in hors d'oeuvres lined them. It was decorated like a museum, with glass cases enclosing an odd assortment of items – a mummified horse and a grandfather clock constructed of seashells among them.

Hermione saw a white curtained platform with a sign that read, "David Copperfield Live". _David Copperfield_? She had him seen perform on the muggle television network. It was nothing compared to real magic of course, but was a still an amusing view of how muggles imagined it. 

Hermione slipped behind the curtain, walking past the two helpers setting up. Backstage was a dressing room with the name 'David Copperfield' written on the door.

"_Alohomora,_" Hermione whispered to the doorknob. It clicked open and she walked inside. Just then, a brown-haired man emerged from the washroom. 

"What do you think you're doing here?" he demanded. 

Hermione whirled around. "Are you Mr. Copperfield?" she blurted. 

"Yes, I am! Now get out!" he said furiously. "What kind of security –"

"_Stupefy!_" Hermione cried. He flat onto the carpet. Hermione felt a small pang of guilt for stunning an innocent muggle. Making sure there was nothing wrong with him, she pulled a strand of hair from his head and put it into the bottle of Polyjuice Potion in her robe pocket. 

Hermione gulped the potion down. Within seconds, she felt her body growing heavier. She immediately had to strip off her robes before rushing to put to find David's costume and put it on. _Gross,_ she thought, trying not to look down at her new 'body'. _I just hate becoming men_. Hermione took her wand and the rest of the Polyjuice and put them into the costume pocket. She dragged David's body into a closet and left it there.

Hermione/now David paced around the room. She picked up a program and memorized the order of illusions she was supposed to do.

In ten minutes, she went onto stage. The curtain opened. 

It was filled with muggles, most of them dressed to the nines in fancy clothing. Hermione picked up the microphone, the muggle voice amplifier – 

The crowd stared expectantly at her. 

_Ooookay. My name Hermione Granger, and I am an Auror here undercover. I have used a Polyjuice Potion to turn myself into the body of a male muggle illusionist, and I will improvise until we can get out of here_. 

It was a very strange situation. 

"Hello…" she said, with David's voice. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen…my name is David Copperfield and I am uh, here to entertain you tonight." Hermione looked out into the crowd. "It is um, an honor, to uh, be here tonight. Mr. Ord's collection is um…amazing. My first illusion will be…" Hermione/David's appearance looked to the assistant to her, who was standing beside a box. "Chopping someone in half! I will, um, now have my stunning assistant lie in this box and I will chop her in half." 

Hermione/David's appearance felt incredibly stupid. 

The petite little assistant waited for Hermione/David's appearance to come and boost her into the box. Hermione did so, and the assistant laid down in the box. Hermione picked up the saw and stared at the box mechanism for a second. But it practically worked itself as the mirrors behind the curtains worked – 

The audience applauded. 

Hermione/David's appearance felt a bit more relieved. Slowly, she started to get used to it. _This isn't even that complicated_, she thought, as the glittery confetti sprinkled from the ceiling. The show went on fairly smoothly. 

"Next, I would be pleased to have a member of the audience up here as I will make him fly across the room like a bird…" Hermione/David's appearance said, getting used to the part. Then, her eyes fell upon a man in the audience that had just made his way into the front row. 

Harry. 

He looked at her pointedly. She gave him a small nod and invited him onto the stage. 

"Hermione, is that you?" Harry asked through gritted teeth. 

Hermione/David's appearance nodded again and proceeded to push a small platform forward for the trick. 

"This is so weird," Harry said under his breath. "That _Polyjuice_. It feels like I'm talking to a man. Can't we call an intermission or something?"

"Is it important?" Hermione hissed. She had forgotten she was still in David Copperfield's body. 

"Yes." Harry insisted, talking without moving his lips as much as possible. "We need to evacuate these muggles now."

"Death Eaters?" Hermione prayed it wasn't. 

"No." Harry answered. "Vampires." 

~

_He lived a childhood in a happy household. A letter in a black envelope allowed him to learn and use magic in school. When he graduated he worked for a man with a black moustache. He became a young man. One night he drank too much and stumbled through an alleyway. He met the wrong person. _

_And there, his life changed, or rather, ended. Or perhaps it was traded, for another one, a different one. But he was never the same man after that. His human body died. His teeth grew long like an animal's. He used them to draw blood from human victims and kill them. Several times a night, every night for years and years, he drank and killed. The routine repeated itself over and over and over and over again. He awoke in the night, for he was banished from the day. He would fulfill the desire and be satisfied, for the purpose only of to carry on one more night. Humanity lost its value. Mortal life was his the fuel of immortal life. _

_He wandered continually through this endless tunnel of dark madness until he found others like himself who became his companions and gave him peace and acceptance. He learned what he was, what it was to love like an immortal and exist like a god. This was death, and he was a soul, freed of a mortal body. He was walking down an endless path, nor heaven nor hell but what something was in between._

And still, he continues eternity. His story is not unusual among his friends. He drinks just as I. I can bring your flesh to my lips and sink my teeth into your skin and suck on your mortal life, and for a while, it will become me. Then you will die and your soul goes to hell while I continue my existence on earth. Then I will forget you as I have forgotten others before you. But until then, I will connect to your soul. Can you feel my pain, as I can feel yours? Hear my thoughts, as I can hear yours? Feel my heart beat, syncopated with your own? 

_Thump. Thump._

Draco felt the lightly cold sweat on his forehead. He felt he should to scream, sit up and panic. Yet he felt calm. He could not see, but he could hear the erratic beating of his own heart. His hands felt themselves in the dark; he was blind. He touched his own face, which was hot with fever. He touched his clothing, his wand, and the Malfoy crest sewn into his pocket. He was lying down, and he couldn't get up. He was not tied down, but he felt too heavy, too tired to move. 

What the hell had happened? Draco thought warily. Who was had he been dreaming about? What had been done to him? Draco remembered the two men, whoever they were. He felt a shiver of rage, partially because he felt humiliated at being captured. The other part of him felt disgustedly violated. He remembered Cho Chang, following her under the Dark Lord's orders. He could feel two bruises on his arm from where she tied him down with the cables. Draco scowled. She had beaten him in a duel. Draco hated to admit his skills were inferior to anyone's. How had she been able to beat him? Why had he been so careless?

Why _had_ he been so careless? He had been distracted…thinking about…Hermione Granger? Was that the reason why? 

The affect of thinking about her was like having strong green tea. Relaxing, yet exciting. That short chance encounter at Hogwarts was enough to make him go crazy. Draco's thoughts trailed back to when he had pinned her down on the floor. Her pretty little body much like a butterfly by its gossamer wings. A helpless, graceful butterfly whose gossamer wings Draco wanted to pick off. Or, at least her arms and legs. Mudblood, enemy or not, she was haunting him.

Draco lay there a little longer. Why couldn't he get up? Maybe he was unconscious and he himself didn't know it. Maybe he was just dreaming. Maybe it had all been a strange dream. God, his head was hurting now. He could hear that erratic heartbeat again. It echoed throughout his entire body, pounding his blood vessels. 

_"Aaahh! Aaahh! Aaahh!" he was screaming. He clawed at his own temples. His head was going to explode. Every once of blood in his body was erupting, bursting to get out of him! Red, then black, flashed before his eyes. What was happening to him? _

_ "You'll get used to it," the man said calmly. He pressed his right hand to Draco's cheek._

_The cold sensations from his fingertips cooled Draco's skin. The burning ceased, his raging blood calmed. But his head did not stop spinning. _

_"Who are you?" Draco gasped. _

_"My name is Ankar. And I already told you I am a vampire," he replied, in a voice barely more than a whisper. _

_Draco's head kept dizzying. He was losing orientation. His breath came in ragged gasps. "How – is – that – possible?" _

_"It is," replied the vampire simply. _

_"Why is he like this?" someone else was talking. _

_"He can feel it already. He can feel how it will overwhelm him," replied the first vampire. _

_"Feel – what?" Draco hissed. "What the hell are doing to me?"_

_He didn't answer. _

_Draco seemed to have had lost all control of his own body, which felt like it was made of jelly. The vampire, the one named Ankar, wrapped his arms around Draco's torso in a twisted sort of hug. Draco could feel his lips on his neck but he couldn't accept what was happening. His brain would not think. _

_"Ahh!" Draco winced in pain as he felt a sharp piercing of teeth on his neck. Then, all of a sudden, it was like the rushing blood in his veins that was a river had broken through the dam that was his body. The sensation was indescribable. His conscious mind was freed, flowing without his body to hold it down. And it flowed, leaving him. _

_Blood! Suddenly, he could sense it. He could taste it, coppery and salty. He could see the red before his eyes. It was liquid life, and it was being sucked out of him, through the punctures in his neck. He should have been dying! But it was something different; he was trading places. He was connected to another part; for bit of his consciousness that was sucked out of him, some of the vampire's was making up for it in his body. Yes, his blood was leaving, but his mind was only…moving around. _

_As the heartbeats linked, so did their thoughts, their memories. Draco was reading someone else's mind. It was amazing, impossible. _

_Finally, he felt the sensation slowly ebb away. The teeth that had attached themselves to his neck were dislodging themselves. The kiss on his neck left. The electrifying flow of blood was slowing. The other being that had been inside his body was leaving. Was it dragging Draco's with it? He felt tiredness, darkness, seep over him. Was he dying? No, somehow he knew he was not._

"Aaahh!" Draco screamed. What was happening? Something was wrong with his body; it was on fire again. His blood was pounding, trying to get out again. His body was aching all over, twitching as if under the Cruciatus curse. Draco had never had it used on him, but he could imagine it felt like what he felt then. What had he been dreaming about? It was so clear! Was it a memory? God, if his head didn't hurt so damn much! 

Hands shaking, he reached up above him into the darkness to get up. 

_…A brown-haired girl with unusually frizzy hair put her hand up. "Frozen eggs of an Ashwinder, sir," she said…_

_ …"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," she said sharply. "They got in on pure talent."…_

_…"Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul – you evil – "…_

_…She was easily the prettiest girl at the ball. Her hair was sleek and shiny, and she walked gracefully down the Grand Hall in those periwinkle blue dress robes like a princess…_

_…"Ten points from Slytherin for insulting a prefect unprovoked, Malfoy!" and then she turned away from him furiously and refused to talk to him for the rest of the period…_

_…Her face was turned far to the left, defiantly refusing to make eye contact with him. Her hair was as tousled as ever, a stray strand hanging over her face. The roots of her hair were slightly damp from perspiration. Her berry-red lips were pursed stubbornly…_

_Hermione. _

Hermione. 

Draco sat up. He opened his eyes. It had been dark, but now he saw that he was in the candlelit room, the one where he followed Cho to – how long was it ago? He had been lying in…a coffin. 

Hermione. What had happened to her? How long _had_ he been there? He – 

"Good evening. So you've waken up," said a voice to Draco's right. It was Ankar. 

Draco turned to look at him. He had black hair, and was quite tall; thin under his muggle coat. His skin had gained a healthy tone; he now looked more or less like a normal person except for his slightly longer-than-average canine teeth – fangs. He was watching Draco keenly. 

His face was familiar; everything about him was familiar. Draco somehow knew Ankar like a childhood friend; however it was like one of those loathsome family friends who you never really liked but had to get along with simply because your mothers were best girlfriends.

Draco wanted to have _nothing_ to do with him.

He boosted himself out of the long wooden box that he had been lying in. He had to find Hermione. 

"Do you love her?" asked Ankar softly. 

Draco whipped around. "What?"

"The girl you're going out to find." 

"How do you know I'm going after a girl?" he asked sharply.  __

"You were yelling her name before you got up." The vampire answered calmly. 

This caught Draco off-guard. "I…was?" 

Ankar smiled casually. 

Draco scowled and turned away from him. Ankar did nothing to stop him as he stormed out of the room. He exited through the muggle bar.  

"Heya sweetie," said the fat barmaid. "Missed ya last night." 

Last night. He had been there for that long. Draco practically kicked the door open and ran outside. 

"Draco!" He turned around to see Ankar. 

"You don't know where you're going, Draco." Draco felt a wave of annoyance. Partly because Ankar had no permission to call him by his first name, partly because he was right - he _didn't_ have any idea where he going. 

"Who is she? Is she a Death Eater, too?"

"No," Draco replied instantly. "She's an Auror."

"But you love her." 

"No, I don't!" he said sharply. "I – " He didn't love her. He just…_wanted_ her. Liked her. Something like that. 

Ankar didn't push it. "There was a raid tonight. If she is an Auror, she should be there. I don't believe Voldemort knew about it. Bardot and the others have gone there. They want to interfere with the raiding, for their own amusement. It is a muggle building. I can bring you there."

"Bardot?" Draco asked, slightly shocked. "A vampire?"

"Yes. He and the others. They like to meddle in the affairs of your war. It's fun for them."

Pause. Draco took a moment to swallow this new information. 

"Would you like me to take you there?" Ankar offered. 

Draco hesitated. A vampire was for some reason, trying to help him. He didn't understand why, he didn't understand anything that had just happened to him in the last twenty-four hours, but there were no other alternatives. 

~

"Vampires?" Hermione said, her stomach rising to her throat. She didn't want to believe it. "Yeah, right!" 

Harry glowered at her. "Why would I lie?" 

Hermione/David's appearance looked at the expectant crowd and then at Harry. "How about that wonky book? Have you gotten it yet?" 

"Sirius and Remus have it," said Harry. "But there are vampires in the building. I don't know what they're doing." Hermione then noticed how urgent Harry looked. He was tapping his foot very impatiently. "Get these people out of here."

"Okay." Hermione/David's appearance sighed. The crowd of classy muggles was getting very irritated at her stalling.

"Ladies and gentlemen! I have a great surprise for you all! This next illusion, in which I will make my friend, Harry here, fly, is so great that we will need to go outside to see it! Now, if you'll all line up orderly, I shall lead you outside to see the grand sight!" 

"Damn, you're pretty good," Harry said, unable to suppress a grin. The crowd looked approving and started getting up to leave. 

Hermione/David's appearance got off the stage to lead them away. Harry snuck off. Slowly, she opened a nearby fire exit and shuffled the queue of people away. It was getting late. She could feel her body growing smaller, the costume loosening. Good, at least she could use magic. 

Hermione's body soon had completely transformed back to her own. She reached into David Copperfield's pocket and grabbed her wand. Hopefully, it would be dark enough for the muggles not to notice the change in appearance. 

"Hermione!" it was Lavender. 

"Lavender!" 

Lavender, who was dressed in a tight-fitting red sequined evening gown, ran up to Hermione. "Hermione, there are vampires in here! I think it's You-Know-Who's doing, but they're here! Look, we have to find a way to stop them, they're - _going around killing people_!"

Just then, a herd of screaming muggles came stampeding down the hall. 

The lights went out. The crowed gasped and everyone began to murmur. 

_This can't be good_. 

"Everyone, just please, calm down," Hermione yelled, now with her own voice. But no one was listening. Everyone was moving around in a frenzy. The mob that had run in screaming was panicking, trying to get to the exit.     

"I'll – " Lavender began. But then their attention turned to a figure standing above the crowd. 

He was floating there by magic. Hermione could see him holding up a wand. The spotlights were turned onto him, probably by magic. Over one of his arms was draped a limp body. Hermione would've thought it was a Death Eater, but Death Eaters didn't play stage games.

"Enjoying your magic show?" he laughed. It the same kind of echoing voice that Hermione remembered from her first encounter with a vampire.

"I know some of you among this crowd of mortals are wizards." He said evilly "Please give Voldemort and Dumbledore my compliments -" Hermione gasped - "and your dear Mr. Ord for this lovely party." The vampire brandished the body of Mr. Ord as if it was a large doll.

The muggles all either gasped or laughed. They thought it was part of a show. 

Then - 

"Good evening, ladiiiieeees and gentleman!" Everyone turned to look at the pretty young blond woman standing on stage – Lavender. 

Hermione's jaw dropped. Lavender had grabbed the microphone and was stealing distracting everyone's attention. Hermione was half-incredulous, half-amazed. For once, Lavender's crazy, ruthless party-girl antics were doing some good.

"May I let all you all know you're a beautiful audience tonight!" Lavender exclaimed. "Now would all the handsome hunks and gorgeous babes please step outside to our outdoor theatre for a moment because we have a fabulous surprise waiting there for you…"

Hermione sucked in her stomach nervously. Would it work? Most of the older guests looked a little offended at being called 'handsome hunks and gorgeous babes'. Still, deciding between the crazy man holding their dead Mr. Ord in one arm and a charismatic, smiling young hostess, they followed Lavender out the door. 

_Please don't make this one a hypnotist, too,_ Hermione prayed, looking at the vampire. She began to dodge through the crowd to get to him.  

Taking a deep breath, she pointed her wand at the figure floating twenty feet above the thinning crowd. 

"_Expell_ – "

He grabbed her by the wrist. 

Hermione shrieked and dropped her wand. 

He was a handsome, golden-haired vampire. His eyes were very light hazel. Hermione felt her body shake in fear. He was grinning evilly, having put Mr. Ord's dead body down. Hermione felt herself freeze up the way she had the first time.  

_RRIIIIIIINGGG_! It was the muggle fire alarm. 

Hermione turned her head. Lavender had managed to clear the hallway to the outside, but – 

Flame! Tearing down the walls, the building was afire. 

Hermione looked in horror at the vampire who held her captive. 

Suddenly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace. His fangs found her neck and he sunk his teeth in. 

Hermione gasp felt her body freeze. She could sense blood being sucked out of her. Red came before her eyes, then black. She could hear the rushing of blood and of two heartbeats at regular rhythms. 

_I'm dying!_

_I don't want to die!_

Her head was lighter; her entire body was lighter. She was losing it, losing it…

_But I can't! No, wake up wake up wake up wake up!!!!_

Her hands fumbled into her pockets. She needed a knife, a wand, anything. Her fingers grasped upon a handle. _Just stab him…do something…_

~

Draco stared at flaming building. 

"He did this?" Draco turned to Ankar. 

"Bardot is like that." Ankar said forcefully. "She could be in there." 

Draco felt a wave of hatred and frustration. He hated Ankar, Bardot, Cho Chang; he hated all of them. But what could he do? 

He started towards the burning mansion. 

"Draco!" he heard Ankar yell from behind him. He didn't look back. 

"Draco. Bardot has his own ambitions and ideas. He doesn't care about human life. He doesn't know –" Ankar pleaded.

Draco ignored him. He took out his wand and blasted a window open. He didn't understand who really had the power in the situation; why Ankar was trying to talk to him into not being angry with Bardot; what Bardot was doing. But he knew Hermione was in there; and he had to go find her. 

"Draco!" Ankar called again. But he was already inside. 

The walls were still flaming. Inside the empty hall were piles of rubble. Draco broke into a run down the hallway. An injured muggle lay on the ground where he ran past. He started smashing doors open. The building was deserted. It was getting warmer as the walls seemed to heat in the oven-like stronghold. His eyes darted around the rooms. 

Draco ran through more hallways. Would Bardot have Hermione? What would he be doing? Would he did what Ankar did to him? _Shit,_ he thought. 

And then, there he was: it was the blondish vampire; he was hunching over a small, struggling, figure. 

 "Stop it!" Draco yelled. He grabbed Bardot by the shoulder and jerked him off. 

Immediately, and calmly, Bardot put her down on the ground. Yes, it was Hermione. She winced slightly as she was laid on the floor. Draco looked from her to Bardot in a mixture of hatred, anger, and fear. He dropped down onto the floor and picked Hermione up into his arms. She was weak, no longer struggling. Her skin was pale, her lips light pink instead of red, her thick brown hair was hanging lifelessly around her face, and her entire body was limp. 

The entire building was getting hotter, less bearable. Draco felt the stifling air around them. He brought two fingers to her neck. Beneath a light pulse he felt two tiny punctures. So it was real; they were real; the vampires were real. He felt sick.

"Draco! Bardot!" It was Ankar. 

He and Bardot began a heated argument. 

"Is she alright?" Ankar asked Draco. Behind him, Bardot sneered. 

Draco stood up with Hermione in his arms. He couldn't help her. He went to a nearby door and kicked it open. Hundreds of meters away, far across the mansion's large grounds were masses of screaming muggles. The house still burned furiously. Draco could hear sirens of muggle emergency vehicles. He walked slowly, still carrying Hermione through the deserted garden.

A distant voice was calling Hermione's name. Draco thought he might have been imagining it; it seemed so distant. Draco gently put her body down, and touched her cheek. Mudblood, Auror, rival, what did it matter, really? 

The voice calling for her was getting nearer. Draco left, stood by a shady wall, and watched as one of her friends, and Auror no doubt, came and found her. He watched as the rest of them all of which he recognized, came and carried her away. Then they left. Draco touched the Dark Mark on his right forearm, but felt no urge to go stop them. Stopping them would mean delaying Hermione's recovery. She was safer that way. 

Draco stood there, transfixed by his own feelings.

"I didn't know she was your girlfriend." Bardot said coldly. Draco realized the two of them were standing next to him. He didn't answer. Draco didn't like Bardot. He loathed Ankar, but he hated Bardot. Bardot was the ruthless, ambitious one. He reminded Draco of himself.

Ankar brought his face closer to Draco's to talk to him more privately. "Don't be angry. Bardot plays around with muggle affairs. We don't normally treat mortals with…care."  

"What did he do to her?" Draco asked monotonously. 

"What we do to mortals." Bardot said loudly, butting in. "Don't get so attached. And Ankar, you don't have to soften things for him. You're being a _hypocrite_."

"What did you do to me, then?" Draco asked sharply, before he could stop himself.

"We haven't done it yet," Bardot snapped, just as sharply. 

Just what that meant, Draco didn't know.

~

_Her children were hungry, but she couldn't do anything. She loved them more than anything. But their father was gone, and she had no money at all to feed them. They were going to taken away from her if she didn't give them what they needed, precisely what she couldn't possibly. _

She was going to end her own life, just so her children could get help. She left her home in the middle of the night. She found a man to whom she sold some sex, the last time she planned to. He offered her a bit of sympathy and a few drinks to make her feel better. He offered her a better life, riddance of all her problems. She didn't know better and agreed. 

 He tied a physical connection of their bodies and she felt her soul come through, away from her dying mortal body. Her mortal blood changed, vampire blood replaced it. She was alive, she was never going to die…but still, her life pulsed within her, too stubborn to leave. It burned at her skin…it was wouldn't leave…it was too strong…

It burned! It scorched and boiled! 

Hermione's body was on fire, fire, FIRE! 

Her face and forehead was burning. Her sweat was liquid lava from her pores. 

Then, - 

Ice!

Cold, blue, wonderful ice. 

The lava cooled to become a geyser, then water.

"Hermione!" someone was calling her name. 

Her body was still too hot, she was still trapped within her own straightjacket of hot skin. She needed to get out of it, molt out like a serpent – 

"Hermione, it's okay!" said someone. Hermione's hands scrambled to find the ice, until she got it. She pressed it all over her body, anywhere she could reach, until her entire body had cooled. 

"Hermione." _Hermione, Hermione, Hermione…_her name was echoing. 

She was waking up. 

"Huuuhh!" she gasped. Her eyes opened. 

She was in a hospital room. There were people with her. One had green eyes and black hair, one had flaming orange hair. They were looking at her intensely. They were familiar, but who were they?  

_Those are Harry and Ron…_

Oh yeah. 

It took a few moments. Slowly, her memory returned. 

"Harry?" she said weakly. "Ron…"

They hugged her. It felt nice. 

Harry and Ron. Their faces were sick with worry. 

Then, a plump nurse walked in. It was Madame Pomfrey, their nurse from Hogwarts.

"Oh, sweetie," she said. "You're okay. You had – one of the highest fevers I've ever seen!" 

"She's awake!" Ron yelled. 

A tall, old man with a long white beard walked in. Dumbledore. Hermione saw the relief in his eyes. He hugged her. Then, a shorter man with a cane and a wooden leg came in. He had a magical blue eye in one sunken socket. It was Mad-Eye Moody, Senior Auror. 

"We're glad to see you've pulled through, Miss Granger," he growled. Hermione watched as McGonagall, Remus and Sirius walk in and each give her a hug. 

"Where – are we?" Hermione asked weakly.

"St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries." Answered Dumbledore. 

Hermione thought back to the raid on the Ord Mansion. The fire, the magic act…

"Where are the others?" 

The adults looked at each other, as if pondering whether or not to share some bad information with a small child. 

"What happened?" she demanded. 

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Well…"

"They're in the other room with Lavender." Remus continued for her. "She was injured, too. Perhaps even worse than you."

"How…?" 

"Well…" Remus's shoulders sagged as he spoke. "We don't really know. All we know is that she was hit by the burning debris, complete accident…" 

Hermione couldn't speak. 

"Most of the muggles were alright." Remus said, as if trying to comfort her. "Besides being shaken up a bit, when the emergency vehicles came…"

Hermione felt sick. 

Moody and Dumbledore were talking to Harry, divided by a curtain from Hermione's room, a few doors away from Lavender's. Harry had gotten just an hour of sleep since they had brought Hermione and Lavender, both in serious condition, away from the Ord Mansion some seven hours ago. Hermione had been given a strong Dreamless-Sleep potion and she slept until then, the early morning. According to Madame Pomfrey (who came to work at St. Mongu's after Hogwarts closed), her fever had cooled.

Harry felt relieved at knowing this. Hermione was one of his best friends, and he loved more than almost anyone. Even though he hadn't slept a wink since being at the Ord Mansion, he was at least happy to know had she was safe. Hermione had lost a lot of blood, and her fever had risen so high she was nearly put in the Intensive Care with Lavender. After waking up and informing the others, she had fallen back to sleep. Ron was the one to give her a blood transplant – he had type O blood, and so Hermione was doing well.

Now all Harry and the others had to worry about was Lavender. 

Everyone but Harry and the two older Aurors were in Lavender's room. It was apparent from the looks on Dean, Seamus and Padma's faces that Lavender was not in good condition. Parvati would not even leave her best friend's side. Lavender had not yet regained consciousness after getting first-degree burns. Harry sighed heavily. He was so tired.  

Over top all the business with Voldemort, the vampires, and the Torch Books. Dumbledore and Moody put a lot of responsibility on Harry's shoulders. He had to be able to take it. God, it wasn't easy being an Auror. 

"Wake up, Potter. Learn to get used to it. The point is to get right back to work when it happens." Moody was saying. He was looking extremely stiff, as if he, too, was worried, but just didn't want to admit it. Harry gulped and turned his attention back to him. "The Louvre is a very high-security magical building…a magical object hidden there won't be easy to find…"

"The point is, Harry, that we can't let Lavender's injury delay us from tonight's raid. Just because the book was destroyed this time doesn't mean tonight we'll be as lucky," Dumbledore said, pressing his fingertips together. 

"I know…" Harry said. He rubbed his sore eyes. 

"You'll have to bear with us for the next little while, Harry," Dumbledore said lightly, as if talking to a kindergartener. 

"Sorry, something was in my eye," Harry lied. 

Moody cleared his throat. "Potter. We've discussed this over. Destroying the books would delay Voldemort, without a doubt, but if the knowledge contained inside may be enough to _defeat_ him. This time we need to _get_ the book." 

Harry coughed. "We'll have to become Dark wizards?" 

"Not necessarily _become_ Dark wizards. But learn Dark Magic," Dumbledore said.

"I'll do it," Harry said immediately, without really thinking. Harry was used to accepting assignments easily. He needn't trouble Dumbledore and the others any more than they already had. Even if they were terribly dangerous sounding. Become a Dark wizard…hell, he was already a Parselmouth and owned the brother wand of Voldemort's, how much worse could it be?

Dumbledore smiled subtly. Then he looked sad as he patted Harry on the shoulder.

Then, suddenly, Hermione flung open the curtain. 

"Hermione, you're up," Harry said. Hermione observed how tired her friend looked. There were dark circles under his eyes, which were red from lack of sleep. His hair was even messier than usual. She stood there and stared, having interrupted their conversation. 

"Please tell me what's happening tonight." Hermione pleaded. "It should be me in there, not Lavender. If we I can't help her, at least tell me how we can avenge her." 

Lavender's parents and older brother were owled and remained in critical condition. Parvati wouldn't leave her side and stayed with her. There was a noticeable change in the junior Aurors; they were much more subdued and appeared seemingly expressionless. Hermione couldn't open her mouth to talk in fear that she would vomit. 

Why hadn't she had the sense to take over the Lavender had? Lavender was the better Gryffindor, the one who made the sacrifice and was suffering from first-degree burns. 

Did the others blame her? Was that why they weren't talking to her? 

_It's all my fault, I did it, if Lavender dies, it'll be my fault_, Hermione thought wildly. _I didn't manage to get that vampire!_ Not only did she manage not to save any of her designated evacuees, she didn't catch the vampire, the one probably responsible for Lavender's injuries. 

And Draco Malfoy. Why hadn't she cursed him properly? Why did she _run away_? Why didn't she find the courage to – _kill_ him? Why hadn't she been able to do it? If she didn't kill him, why didn't _he_ kill _her_? Why did _he_ let her go? She hated him, oh, so badly. 

Hermione's conscience weighed all around her like being in an ocean trench. Hermione wished she had been the one injured. She wanted to be the one dying from burns. She was an utter disgrace to the other Aurors, the other Gryffindors. 

But no, she was on her way to another raid. But at least, she had a chance to make it up.

This time, Dumbledore was with them, the other senior Aurors as well. Harry, Ron and Moody were sent in the opposite direction back to Hogwarts, while they were at an International Floo Station. There was no Ron-and-Lavender-flirting going on, not much talking at all. Hermione waited quietly with the others as Dumbledore and McGonagall checked them out and handed them a sheet of instructions and each a sack of powder each. 

  Hermione stood in front of the large fireplace with the sign 'France' over it. She was first; everyone watched her expectantly. She threw a handful of powder in and waited for the fire to glow green. 

"Champs-Elysée!" she said loudly. And then she walked inside. 

Hermione felt she must have been twirling in the magical dimension of the Floo tunnel for hours, though it was more like five minutes. Eyes shut tight, she finally felt her feet touch solid ground. 

She stepped outside. It was indeed the Champs-Elysée Floo Station. Witches and wizards around her were speaking rapidly in French. A sign that read 'Sortie' hung at a door. She was in Paris. 

They left the building and stepped onto the famous boulevard. 

"I've always wanted to come here," said Seamus. Hermione looked at him. He looked so sad, nervous, worried – all the feelings that Hermione knew they all felt. She could relate.

"Lavender's going to be okay," Hermione told him instantly. She only hoped she wasn't telling a lie.

All of them were wearing normal muggle casual clothing. Dumbledore, seeming to know the city well, got them onto _un autobus_ which took them to the Louvre. 

Hermione had been to Paris before. She loved it very much. The Louvre was one of her favorite places. It was sheer grandeur, from the magnificent stone castle walls to the exquisite marble sculptures of poets that stood around them in the enormous courtyard to the beautiful glass pyramid. If only she was here on vacation, or a school trip, anything but a raid with You-Know-Who.

And that was not to mention the hundreds of beautiful works inside. Hermione had always had great respect for the artists, the many hours and hours they put into the art. She loved looking at them; she was never much at art herself, but she _loved_ them. If she had to pick a favorite it would be the Ancient Greek and Etruscan exhibit. The perfect grace in carving each smooth contour of the figures was amazing. They weren't statues – they were alive. 

"The museum will close soon." Dumbledore said, interrupting her thoughts. He was giving out instructions. 

"I've called one of good friends, a curator who works here. I've explained about everything, and he's going close it for special circumstances. After the muggles clear off, we'll have to Stun all the guards…we've arranged for a large force of Hit Wizards, - can't possibly cover this whole place with just the eight of us, - they'll do the general guarding, but we're going to have to _search the place through_."

"Search it through?" Padma asked. 

"Yes." Dumbledore nodded once, firmly. "We need to find it before Voldemort does. You'll need to de-charm every piece of art, every wall…and we'll need to finish it as quickly as possible."

If anyone else thought the instructions were strange, they didn't say anything. 

Soon, Hermione found herself in the Greek exhibit. 

Hermione was surrounded in marble sculptures and reliefs of Ancient Greek life. She began to use X-Ray Charms, Reverse-Invisibility Spells, and de-Transfiguration spells on every possible statue – the Venus de Milo, the Three Graces, and many more, every single one of them. She also repeated it on every wall, every marble pillar and molding. She went through each of the rooms. It seemingly took hours.

Hermione finally stopped to take a breath at the foot of the Winged Victory of Samothrace. She was surprised at how tired she was. She was gasping for breath. It was as though her lungs had shrunk in capacity. 

"_Death Eaters!_" 

Hermione shook her head. It was Dean. _Death Eaters._

"Hermione!" he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. "Come on!"

"Okay," she said. "I'm coming." Hermione tried to shake the dizziness in her head away and followed Dean.

"We need to get Seamus and Padma out of here." Dean led Hermione down the long hallways until they bumped into the other two running down the same corridor.

"Thank god we found you," Padma whispered hurriedly. "There are Death Eaters outside. We need to get out."

Dean grabbed Padma around her shoulders and pulled her hard towards him in a protective, relieved hug. Then all four of them together rushed towards the ticket center, the area right beneath the glass pyramid. 

The ticket center was the large, modern heart of the museum. It was built on the first level underground, and lead off to the main museum areas. Right in the center was a lift that brought them to the ground level, to the inside of the glass pyramid, that lead out into the courtyard. 

"Up that lift!" Hermione said. They jumped onto it and magicked up. 

_Oh god_, Hermione thought. Her eyes blacked for a minute from the drainage of energy from her body. She tried to ignore it.

At the top of the lift, they got out of the pyramid's glass doors. A pair of Hit Wizards was guarding the entrance to the pyramid. The entire courtyard was, in fact, surrounded by dozens of ministry Hit Wizards. Each was wearing a set of very strong dragonhide magic-repelling armor, and carrying powerful spare wands in their pockets.

"There were Death Eaters outside!" Dean yelled at one of them. 

The Hit Wizard must have been ordered to recognize the junior Aurors. He nodded sharply. He gestured to some of the others and an entire troop of them marched past the courtyard go around the outside. 

"I guess we have to follow." Seamus suggested grimly. 

~

Draco woke up in an unfamiliar bed in a room in the back of the muggle bar, where Ankar and Bardot lived. 

He didn't know what made him stay with them. He could have gone back to his own apartment after the raid the night before, but he didn't. 

The room he was stayed in was completely dark and blocked of outside light. It must have been the way vampires lived. Ankar and Bardot had already gotten up and left. Draco didn't want to know why. It was early nighttime; Draco had a feeling that they had slept all day.

The Dark Mark simmered on his arm. There must have been a meeting that he did not attend. Where did Lucius think he was? Although he rarely came to stay at the Malfoy Manor from his own apartment in London, he would surely know something was wrong if Draco missed a Death Eater meeting. 

Oh well. It was all past him. What good was being a Death Eater, anyways? He hardly knew _what_ he was. 

Suddenly, an unsettling thought came to mind. Was there a raid that he didn't know about, that Hermione was going to be at? 

"Good evening, Draco," said Ankar pleasantly from behind him. Draco turned around. The vampire's face was rosier, healthier-looking than before, but still angelically beautiful. He had fed. 

"Ankar," Draco said, addressing him for the first time by name. "Are there any Death Eater raids tonight?"

"In fact there is!" Bardot said heartily. The other vampire walked in, stretching leisurely. "And you'd like to go there to protect the girl from your own people, am I correct?" 

"Damn straight," Draco murmured, his heart sinking slightly. "Let's go."

"We're in France?" Draco asked, disbelievingly. They had Apparated all the way, countries away, in one shot and without legal check-in. 

"Welcome, young friend," Bardot said vigorously. "This is Paris. And we are standing on the Louvre Museum." 

Draco looked around the beautiful city from the rooftop. The nightlife was amazing, even if it was built largely by muggles. The Eiffel Tower in the distance was lit up, her steel skeleton illuminated gold. The river Seine was shimmering with streetlamps. The whole city was lit up, the air warmed by the bustle. 

But no, he was here for more important things. 

"Are they down there?" Draco asked. 

"Yes, probably just beneath you, now." Ankar answered. 

Wordlessly, Draco lifted his wand and floated down, off the roof and onto a windowsill. He tapped it with his wand and it gave in. 

Was he to find Hermione again, the same way he did the night before? He thought of her weak little body in his arms…how could she possibly be back, fighting, in one night? Then again, knowing her, she'd be too headstrong not to. 

Where did he start? Inside the museum, the large marble halls were filled with displays of sculpted white figures. It had two large main wings, divided into hundreds of rooms inside.

Draco's eyes darted around the halls. He found the main walkway and went one way. The place was a labyrinth! He went through many rooms and doorways, the only indication that he wasn't going in circles were the sculptures…

Then, a Death Eater. 

The Auror Draco had been chasing disappeared. But Draco recognized the Death Eater. It was Lucius. 

"Draco." Yes, it was Lucius. Just an older version of himself. Draco would know his own father's voice anywhere.

"Why the hell weren't you at the last meeting?" he demanded. 

Draco tensed. What was he supposed to say?

"Sorry," Draco muttered quietly. Then he ran past his father, who yelled at him as he dashed through the Egyptian exhibit. Draco had never ignored his father before. But he didn't stop.

"Draco!" this time it was Bardot. Draco had forgotten they were still with him.

He stopped in his tracks. Bardot pointed out the window for Draco to see. 

Outside, dozens and dozens of Death Eaters and as Hit Wizards were dueling in the streets of the museum complex. It was furious battle. Flashes of light from curses flew around everywhere.

_Hermione_. 

He had to find her before they did. For some reason, he had to. 

The Death Eaters. The people of whom he once was a part of. The mark on his arm burned at that moment as if to remind him. But no, the image of her burned harder, in the front of his mind. 

_Hermione_.

~

Hermione, Dean, Seamus and Padma stopped their running.

They were everywhere. 

Death Eaters in silver masks and black cloaks. The Hit Wizards ran forwards to battle. Spells and curses ran all across the place. It was mayhem like they had never seen before. 

"Shouldn't – shouldn't we try to help?" Seamus stammered. 

Dean held Padma back with one safe guarding arm. 

But they all knew they were completely powerless. They were Aurors – spies, special agents – not professional duelers. They had no protective armor. 

"I think…we'd better just go for Dumbledore," Padma said, her face paling. 

The four of them turned back slowly, preparing to leave. 

"Wait!" Dean cried. "Look back there! More of them!" 

More Death Eaters were Apparating onto the grounds, into the giant courtyard.   

"Keep looking for the others, I'm going after them!" 

"You can't go alone!" Padma screamed. She ran after Dean. 

"Keep going, all of you!" Dean ordered. Padma refused to and ran to him.

"Dammit!" Seamus hissed. Hermione was just thinking the same thing. They started after Padma and Dean. 

A group of about ten of the remaining Hit Wizards followed pursuit as well. The Death Eaters were running in an ordered formation, two straight lines heading for the glass pyramid. Hermione watched, in horror as they filed inside. Then, even worse, as Dean and Padma and the group of Hit Wizards went in after them. 

"It's going to be a trap!" Hermione screamed. But she couldn't help it as she and Seamus ran, also, into the pyramid. 

She jumped off the lift into the middle of darkened lobby of the world's largest museum. 

Instead of continuing to run and look for the Death Eaters, Hermione halted as soon as she got off the lift. The four Aurors huddled around and the ten Hit Wizards formed a defensive position around the Aurors.  

Hermione's hands were shaking. She was feeling dizzy again. But she stood, ready for anything she could imagine. 

Slowly, their eyes began to adjust.

All around the room stood a solid black ring of Death Eaters. Easily outnumbering them ten to one. 

"What do we do?" Padma whispered. Each one of them was a fully-armed, fully-trained evil fighting machine. 

"Slowly," whispered one of the Hit Wizards. "Slowly."

They surveyed the room. The Death Eaters were poised and ready to kill. It would be too easy – there were ten Death Eaters to a Hit Wizard, maybe a slim bit less counting the four of them. How could there be so many? There had only been a handful run in from the pyramid. The others must have been inside already. A trap. 

"Can we Apparate out of here?" Hermione whispered, trying not to move. 

"No," answered one of their guards, whispering as well. "The Louvre is protected against it. 

So they had to fight. They were slowly observing the Death Eaters, the Death Eaters, them. The tension was getting thicker by the second. Hermione scrambled to think of a plan. Around the almost-circular lobby were hallways leading into different parts of the museum. 

"Shh," she whispered. "I have an idea. We need to trap them," she said. "Block each of the exits. Do you all remember the Secret Door Spell?"

The Secret Door Spell was a special spell that once cast, would not allow anyone through but the caster. It was a magical shield that blocked out just about all physical attacks until the caster reversed it.  

"Oh yeah. The one-person door," Padma gasped. 

"That's right," Hermione whispered. "It would block out all the Death Eaters. They won't try and run because their odds are too good here. But if we trap them…it'll be easier for us."

"In one minute, this place is going to be mayhem," one of the Hit Wizards predicted quietly. "I'll set up a shield for everyone, then you all Stun as many as possible. Then you guys do what you need to."

"Thanks." Hermione said. She could see the ring of silvery masks glinting in the hint of light coming through from the glass pyramid above them. 

"One…two…three…" said the guard.

A force field projected around them. 

"_STUPEFY!_" Hermione yelled. But everyone was yelling it at once. A dozen Death Eaters fell. Shouts rang out. Suddenly, it was sheer, utter havoc. Dozens of Stunning Spells shot around everywhere. The Death Eaters were dodging the spells while at the same time trying to penetrate their shield. 

"This will not last!" yelled the guard. "Run!" 

Hermione ducked and slid out from under the shield. "_Invisibilo!_" she cried. Several Aurors disappeared under their Invisibility charms. She dashed between confused Death Eaters and to the doorway that read 'Information'.  

When she reached the doorway, Hermione racked her memory for the Secret Door Spell. _Think of a personalized door, _she thought. _Books, quills, studies, Harry, Ron_, she tried to imagine them all on a door. It was beginning to form in front of her. 

A Death Eater was starting to stare in Hermione's direction. Was her Invisibility wearing out? 

"_Impedimenta_!" she yelled. He fell. Hermione concentrated on the personal door. 

_Concentrate. Only usable by Hermione Granger_, she thought. _Once this door is made no one else can get through without my permission._ She summoned all of her strength - _just a little more_ – and said the incantation. 

There – it was complete. A completely Hermione-controlled door. Hermione heaved for her breath. Her body was aching.

_Now for that one, _she thought. Hermione went to the next doorway. This one was much wider. _Focus on yourself, _she thought. 

Just then, her invisibility charm wore off. 

"There!" roared a Death Eaters. Hermione was caught off-guard. The huge man tackled Hermione and they both slid into a relief of Neptune. 

"Ow!" she cried. Her ribs stabbed at her as they hit a wall. Her shoulder was twisted underneath her weight and the man holding her. 

"I'm going to get a good one for this!" he snickered. The man stood above her. She couldn't get up and fight. She was too weak…

" _Crucio!_" he yelled cruelly. 

"Ahhh!" she cried. An overwhelming pain all over her body – and then – everything seemed to dim.  

~

It was Hermione. 

Was this happening again? 

This time it was a Death Eater standing over her. What was he doing? Was it a torturing curse? Hermione had fallen on her knees and her whole body was trembling. 

"_Avada Kedavra!_" the words rolled right out of Draco's mouth. The properties of the killing curse came from his body surprisingly naturally. The flash of green light hit the man neatly in the back. He stiffened like a board and fell over. Draco was shocked. It was first time he had ever killed a man using the Avada Kedavra curse. And it was not an Auror, but a Death Eater!

Draco quickly got over this shock and ran over to catch Hermione. 

She was still shaking. He held her up, unsure what else to do. Down the hallway, a mess of Death Eaters and Hit Wizards were fighting. Not like he gave a damn about them. 

Hermione. 

She looked so worn out and pushed to the limit that he was afraid she would break if he put her down. Draco felt his own body go numb, his fingers tingle at touching her bare arm. Suddenly, it felt as though his entire world, held up like the massive marble pillars that surrounded them in this gallery of gods, were melting, melting like chocolate put on a hot plate. 

"Hermione," he whispered. 

Her eyes were half-closed, but she had stopped twitching. She made a movement as if to get up, but Draco tightened his grip on her a little more to stop her. 

"Seamus," she said, gasping slightly. 

_Seamus?_ Did Hermione have any sort of…relation with Seamus Finnigan? Or…was it just his blond hair?

"Get Dumbledore – we can't – beat them –" Hermione looked even more strained now. 

"Hermione – " he said. He leaned to put his mouth closer to her ear. "Hermione, I'm not Seamus. I'm Draco." 

It felt weird. In school, 'Hermione' and 'Draco' were never used by the one person in the same conversation. But no, they weren't in school. School was irrelevant. It was okay now. 

"Draco," she whispered. 

Draco felt his entire body start to numb. Every sound from the lobby seemed to mute. It was a strange moment – total enemies, yet, for that moment in time, their places had switched completely. It was a coincidence of the stars – an eclipse – no, better, _yes_ it was better, more rare, even more amazing than an eclipse.

"It's okay," he told her. He sounded raspy and hoarse. "You can tell me."

"Draco, you've got to get the book. Before he does," Hermione said, her voice barely a whimper. She tugged at the sleeve of his robe. Draco's arm numbed. "He's going to…"

Then she closed her eyes. She must have been so tired to come to such a raid after last night. Draco felt her breathing calm. In the spur of strange moment, he felt stars close around him. In the darkness of the room, he could see every highlight of her skin. Draco brought his lips away from her ear, and gently, slid from her cheekbone, over her cheek to her mouth. His lips were tingling. He could sense every contour, almost every pore on her skin. He could feel her breathing on his nose and mouth. Her body was warm, the pink tinge on her neck, exposed by the neckline of her cotton muggle shirt, a sign of her mortality. Draco stayed frozen, their lips touching ever so slightly, their faces, close enough to kiss, but still, entranced and unmoving.

What was he doing? 

Ankar and Bardot walked up from behind him. Draco was fully aware of this.

~

Draco still held Hermione's sleeping body as they walking away from the Louvre. Ankar and Bardot followed him a few steps away, helping him whenever he asked for it and for some reason never interfering in his mortal problems. They were still standing dutifully behind him, as if waiting patiently for something they knew would eventually happen. 

From a far distance, they could see the pyramid, now burning from inside, the flames unable to escape the sealed glass and now burning out, becoming smoke. He could hear screaming. Did the Death Eaters and Aurors escape? What about Lucius?

To be honest, Draco didn't really care. Mostly he was thinking about Hermione being in his arms. He could touch her on the cheek, run his fingers through her hair. 

Draco had never been in love before. 

_Typical Death Eaters. You're so stupid, so blind! All you want is power – that fool, Voldemort, does he really think he can become immortal by killing innocent people? You think you can have that power by following him?_

Cho Chang's words echoed in his mind.

Mortal war.

Was he considering not being a Death Eater anymore?

Ankar, as if he had gotten what he was waiting for, spoke. 

"We are vampires created from magical people. We live on human blood and we cannot die from mortal causes. We are giving you this choice now. If you accept it, you will become one of us. If you reject…" 

End of Chapter 

_Read? Review!_


	8. Chapter Eight

Author's Note: Hi everybody! Sorry about the lateness of this chapter. It was difficult to write (took a while to squeeze some inspiration out of my) especially over school. I didn't even have time to get it beta-read ^^". Now I know what all the other authors talk about when they say they can't update! *gasps* 

Anyways, this is Chapter Eight. I haven't decided yet whether I'll make the next chapter 'chapter 9' or '8B'. Oh well, not that it matters. I hope it'll be out within the next two weeks; this is the last transition chapter, I promise.

Yeah, I know DiC is quite different from most other fics I've read; I tried to write it that way, to be un-cliché. I want it to deserve to be called 'original' and I hope my plot will make it a better fic =) 

Small credit to Master Woo – for…I dunno, he just wanted credit =D. Well, thanks for reading and listening to me complain all the time ^^. You're highly appreciated. 

Thanks to the reviewers: Lena, Sora Ketsueki, snow_queen, Mione G, dracorockstar, Late-Summer-Night, Mochi, Landry Anne, Rowena R, SilverDragoness08, Blanch Dubois, Princess Aiko, crazychick77, Lyra, E-chan, Rhiannon, Eyebright, MysticNiNe, anarkeya and of course, Hell's Hauntress, Mikomi Kume, and Master Woo. 

**Rhiannon**: Yes, David Copperfield _is_ a book about an abused boy, lol! By Charles Dickens. But there is also a very good illusionist of the same name, just search on the Internet, and you'll see. I'm not sure if he copied the name of the classic, because I was confused the first time I heard of him, too. 

**Also **– I'm thinking of making a mailing list for DiC. Note on your review if you want to be on it. The people I emailed this time are the ones who left an email address on Chapter 7's review. 

Chapter Eight  _Excerpts from the __Daily Prophet__, Nov. 1_

_Yesterday night, a group of Aurors led by former Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore along with a force of the Ministry's own Hit Wizards were involved in a raid in France that ended up in disaster. _

_The raid, which took place in the Louvre, Paris, France took a death toll of at least fifty Death Eaters, Aurors, and Hit Wizards killed by suffocation when a fire was started from reasons unconfirmed in the magical structure of the building. Rumors that Harry Potter (the Boy Who Lived) was killed in this fire are unconfirmed… _

_Albus Dumbledore currently refuses to give out any more information, but details will be published as they become known…_

_Dean Thomas…Padma Patil…Draco and Lucius Malfoy…Harold Crabbe…our hearts go out to their families and loved ones… _

~

No one could understand how much it hurt Hermione. No one knew why and how it hurt her, _her_, more than anybody else, not even the families of the dead. 

When Hermione read the title of the newspaper clipping Dumbledore brought in to the hospital room, it hit her like an enormous slap across the face, and then the skin all over her body stung. With every word, a jolt of furious guilty pain stabbed fiercely at her insides until she finished the article. 

In the resonance of the invisible slap her body became numb, very, very numb. Her body? No, the whole world was numb. She was zooming backwards through an endless tunnel, and the light at the end was fast disappearing. Questions were racing through her head, pounding questions like the blood rushing after a vampire's bite. How could it have happened? How did she end up alive? _Clever you, Hermione. You got out_, someone had said. But - she didn't run away! Did they think that she abandoned her friends, she didn't even know how.

_It's your fault!_ Someone kept repeating it.

_But it's not fair!_ No, it wasn't! 

_It's your fault they're dead, you stupid girl!_

Oh, what the hell? 

What mattered was that two of her friends were _dead_. Dean…tall, responsible, Dean with his dark curly hair. Padma…that smart, sensible Ravenclaw who knew people so well that she could calculate anyone's actions in any situation. They were so in love when they died…they probably died in each others' arms…_died…in each others' arms…_No! Dead? Simply – plunged into darkness? Silencing every sense, simply _turned off_? 

No. It was impossible. They had been alive but hours…or was it days…ago. Two healthy young people could not just be alive one day and dead the next. It was not possible. They were not dead. 

But what about the sad looks on her friends' faces? What about the news stories kept showing up in the news? _Dead_. Padma and Dean were dead. 

The world was shaking. Hermione could not get her eyesight to steady. 

They had been murdered. By Death Eaters, by the Dark Lord…

Hermione suddenly, could, for the first time, feel first-handedly the true evil of Lord Voldemort. This was what everyone always talked about. This was the damage he could so easily inflict. This was what it felt like to feel your friends die next to you in the battlefield. 

It hurt.__

Hermione hugged herself in a cold, shivery self-embrace. She wanted someone to comfort her, but Harry and Ron were running around St. Mungo's, their temporary headquarters. So was everyone else; they were working while despite the loss. She was alone. The room was empty but for herself and the lifeless furniture. This had to what it felt like to be dead. To be alone in a cold, dark, room. 

Hermione felt herself choke back a lump in the back of her throat. It was her fault that two of her friends and fifty others had to take this…this overwhelming loneliness. The least she deserved was to be alone. What friends did she deserve anymore? 

Distantly, Hermione heard the sound of crying. Soon, it became her own. The searing tears began to break through… 

And Hermione cried, letting her tears harshly take her over. No one stopped her. She didn't want to talk, read any letters. In fact, Hermione cried until someone did tell her to stop.

It came from a grieving family member who was visiting at the hospital. She had been most bitter in her mourning, swollen-eyed and tear-faced, when she met Hermione. "Why are you crying for? We all know my son was a Death Eater, don't fool around with me, you ministry people are _happy_ he's dead!" 

Had she not the right to cry? Oh, if only that bitter mother had known the truth, it had been _her_ who had killed the son, it had been all her fault. She _did_ have the right to cry.

"No one blames you, Hermione. It was the Death Eaters that started the fire," Seamus said to her once. "Dean and Padma…they took down forty Death Eaters with them." His arm had been in a cast, large parts of his body still bandaged from burns. He had been so quiet and sad when he said this, but had paused his own hurt to try and sympathize with Hermione.  

Hermione gritted her teeth and tensed every muscle to hold back her sobs at this point. She did not deserve Seamus's kindness. He did not understand. The others thought Hermione was crying from guilt that she had somehow survived the incident while the others had gotten smothered by the fire. But that was not why. It was because she had been the one to give the instructions that led to their deaths.

~

So he was dead.

They were all dead, but he couldn't mourn for them because _he_ was dead, too. 

Draco hadn't heard from any of the other Death Eaters or his mother, Narcissa, ever since the last raid at the Louvre in Paris. 

His body had not been found; he was sure they must have tried to contact him. But they had failed; the Daily Prophet article a few days later had announced him dead. The list of dead Death Eaters, Aurors and Hit Wizards had been quite long. Perhaps most of the Inner Circle had been killed. The Daily Prophet did not list most of them as Death Eaters out of respect for their families. Perhaps the Malfoy's were such a prolific Dark family that they did not bother to hide it; near the bottom of the list read _Draco and Lucius Malfoy, _two of the notorious names that _had_ been openly listed as Death Eaters. 

So his father had been killed. 

This hit Draco in a subtly sorrowful sort of way, kind of like when an ex-lover finds someone new. Of course Draco and Lucius had not been lovingly close, but there had been things Draco always meant to say one day. He had never vented out of any of his frustration at Lucius's poor fatherly ways, never vented out the anger at being raised him to be such a pessimistic, malevolent child, never told him of the many times Draco had cursed his name and wished him dead…and of course, possibly most importantly, let him know that he still loved and respected him despite it all.  

And of course, Narcissa. What did his mother think? To have lost a husband and a son in the same night? The same raid? Draco knew she must have been torn apart. Would she sell the Manor? Would she remarry? The latter was unlikely. Draco's mother was _not_ an independent woman, and Draco was surer than hell that a widowed Malfoy could not - _would not_ marry another man. 

Draco felt another pang of sadness for his mother; perhaps he could never see her again. 

And the Dark Lord. His father's master, his master. The Dark Mark tattoo stopped its red-hot burning and faded like a scar. He didn't return home for Christmas, his birthday, or his own funeral. Within months, his eighteenth birthday passed. 

The intriguing thing about that was the fact that with his birthday, he did not get any older. Everyday, Draco saw the same person he had two months before in the mirror, his hair never growing, his body never changing. 

As previously mentioned, he was dead. 

_Oh yes_, he thought harshly. _Dead_. 

Draco found the new ritual fairly easy to get used to. He would climb into a coffin during the day to sleep. His body changed only changed with the amount of blood he drank that night, his skin color fluctuating from healthy pink to transparent white. 

Oh, what it was like to be a _vampire_.

It was like he owned the world after the sun went down. 

Life came to him with every victim, every mortal he sunk his youthful fangs into, and the blood that flowed forth. With guidance, Draco found it was much better to choose criminals such as murderers as victims.

The choice between life as a vampire and simple human death on the spot? Oh, what a choice. There hadn't been much to ponder when it came to him. Immortal life, or instant death? He had unfinished business, doubtless he had wanted to keep living. And really, it was a wonderful life from death. The artistic beating of that wonderful vampire heart gave Draco intensively good senses; everything he had as a wizard was magnified still as a vampire. 

And he basked in this bitter glory.

Ankar and Bardot taught Draco what he needed to know. And Draco accepted it. As a vampire, he had all of eternity ahead of him. No, if he pushed away all thought about his parents and times before becoming a vampire, he knew he would eventually forget them. Ignoring his feelings was not something new for Draco. He was not an emotionally attached person. He would naturally be good at being one of the Dark Immortals. 

 With the world and all time in his hands, he didn't need any of them. He would leave them all…he would only need to wait a few years and his old family would all be dead, and he would know enough to leave the other vampires. He didn't need them either. He didn't even have to bother with any of them anymore. 

Except for one – 

When he had accepted his initiation, Draco had been thinking about living, to save Hermione. For some strange reason. That had been the only thing on his mind them, perhaps the only thing still tugging at it now. 

At that moment, at least at that obsessive moment, he would have given a lot for her. And he had. What a waste it would be to never contact her again. 

The war between the Dark and Light side was still raging. She was still alive; he had seen to that. She would still be an Auror, of course. She would still be working…maybe still around the muggle streets like she had before. He could find her again…talk to her again…oh, delicious thought, bloody delicious thought. 

~

End of Chapter 


	9. Chapter Nine

Author's Note: Hi all! It's been a long time since I updated. Big sorry! I hope this chapter will be good so that I can make up for it. 

Thanks everyone who reviewed!!! And also to Hell's Hauntress for the helpful beta-reading and Master Woo for the moral support (lol). It's been tough finding time to write between school and other things. 

I emailed all the reviewers that left an address. Please leave one if you'd like to be on the mailing list. 

~ Chapter Nine 

_~_

"Hermione," Dumbledore asked. "Are you sure you're alright for this?"

She nodded. 

"Hermione – as I have mentioned, all the way in France, alone - "

"Dumbledore, sir. Please, just let me go."

~

_Dare I hope that I have found the one? Has the research finally paid off? Challamyn, our family Kneezle (whom we've had as long as I remember) is old and has fur grayed from age. She was the first to test my new potion. Within a few seconds of my putting it into her water dish, her fur visibly became that of a much younger feline. Her body became sleek and frisky again as she jumped unto the piano seat and purred affectionately, batting Jordan's fingers as she practiced._

_Such a wonder! I sincerely hope I have found the one. Challamyn shows no sign of going back to her old self. Could this change be permanent, perhaps I have found the one true concoction of youth. _

_- from the journal 1922 of Isiam Torch_

~

Hermione tossed on her bed, body tangled in her sheets, for several minutes after haven waken up, stubbornly refusing to open her eyes in hopes of falling back asleep. 

_Sorry, hon, but you're up,_ she thought to herself grimly. She opened her eyes to stare at the sky. Or rather, the ceiling bewitched to look like the sky. The prospect of getting up held little appeal. But then again, she thought, neither did going back to sleep.

But wait a minute. 

Hermione sat up.   

What a dream she had been having. She had been dreaming about…_ Isiam Torch_. 

Isiam Torch. The brilliant wizard who wrote the Dark Magic books that Voldemort so desperately wanted. And Hermione had his journal, a possible key to figuring out everything written in there.  

His immortality concoction. Ever since finding his journal, Hermione could think of nothing else. The entry about the immortality concoction was the only potion recipe one left that she couldn't crack. 

Hermione had not been able to decipher the runes properly – couldn't identify the substances…

Torch, Torch, potion, runes, spells, ingredients, books…

Hermione dragged herself out of bed. 

Stupid research. It was a little known fact that sometimes even Hermione Granger got _sick_ of it sometimes. Ron and Harry used to tease her about her bookishness. So did everyone: Seamus, Parvati and even Padma, Dean and Lavender, when those three were still….

Oh _shit_. 

Not them again. 

No matter how _bad_ work got, it couldn't be worse than being an Auror, Hermione reminded herself.

The truth was that Hermione didn't want to see her old friends anymore, talk to or have any contact with them. She really couldn't stand it. After the _deaths_ of Padma and Dean – and within days, Lavender, in the intensive care unit – Hermione couldn't stand it anymore. 

They all knew it was her fault they were, why couldn't they simply say it out loud!? Did they have to pretend that it wasn't and change the subject every time it came up!?

Harry, Ron, Seamus, Parvati. She hadn't talked to them in two months and never wanted to ever again. She remembered the conversation she had had with Dumbledore when she wanted to leave.

Hermione ended up in Paris. In the Church of Madeleine.

The Library of Madeleine was the most amazing place; a center for the magical arts. Hidden behind the altar of the grand church was a hidden magical chamber – half the size of Hogwarts' grand hall – but filled to the top of its' hundredfold foot ceilings with skyscraping magical bookshelves – ones that, when you climbed the ladders, never ended with their store of magical information.

The ceiling was one of the only ones in the world bewitched like the Hogwarts' ceiling to look like the sky outside. In the center of the circular room was an arrangement of study furniture that magically shifted and changed to suit the user. The heaven-ascent bookshelves branched out in twelve directions like boulevards from the Arc de Triomphe. They were gilded with golden edges and their rows of hundreds of thousands of books lent a door to every subject, magical or otherwise.

Every once in a while, objects other than books appeared on the shelves. There were opal-white marble sculptures of scholars that spoke, art that ranged from oil portraits to misty Chinese ink mountains on rice paper. There were globes that sucked you in so that you could read their information from a panorama point of view. 

Hermione didn't want to return to Paris, the site of the last disastrous Death Eater raid. But it was getting away, at least – at least she could be alone.

Research. Work. Hermione wasn't _leaving_ the war. 

She just wanted a break from fighting.

Hermione rubbed her eyes. Candles bobbed gently in the air around her. She hadn't actually been in bed. She wasn't even in her apartment. It was really the shifted set of furniture in the center of the library. She must have fallen asleep on her research. Now the magical furniture had turned itself back into a large oaken desk with a leather-bound chair.

The floating golden clock read 9:40 p.m. The ceiling above her was black with hazy white stars. 

The journal and a stack of dictionaries sat in front of her. 

The library was reputed to have dictionaries to every single dialect in the world; even the extinct ones used by the remotest shaman tribe wizards in Africa. She must have climbed miles up the ladders of the languages section, but still hadn't found the right language to translate Torch's text.

_Could this change be permanent, perhaps I have found the one true concoction of youth._

Torch's journal was in English, except for the potion recipes, which were all in funny languages. Hawaiian, Morse Code, Centaurish, Elven and Mermish were some of the simpler ones. 

Hermione couldn't wait to finish the last one so that she could send it back to the _Headquarters_.

~

"Damn them all!" cursed the Dark Lord. 

The once-full circle of Death Eaters was now less than a pathetic crescent moon. The sparse group of remaining Death Eaters stood in scattered groups, far too afraid to even keep their hooded heads up. The men next to him held themselves as still as possible.

"They were fools!" he shrieked. "Fools! I should expect more from you – you who are so – _lucky_ – to be alive." He said the word 'lucky' sardonically. The Dark Lord gripped his wand so tightly in his hand that the little wooden splinter almost snapped. The air almost shook from the sheer rage and terrified tension it caused. 

"The Malfoys were valuable servants," he continued, still sounding sardonic. "But stupid…" his voice dropped to a whisper. A soft, seemingly forced laugh escaped his lips. 

The Dark Lord removed from inside his cloak a large, heavy book. The cover was dark but glowed an eerie blue. 

"Isiam Torch. My old teacher. This was completed in 1922." He read quietly. "Book of Life. The very first he wrote. But it is useless without the others…" An unusual flash passed the Dark Lord's globular red eyes that was eager and hopeful, almost child-like, almost vulnerable. 

With a snap of his long white fingers, he snapped it shut. Then, gently, he put it down on the gravestone in front of him. 

"Lazy filth." He began again, referring back to the lost Death Eaters. "Useless when dead. You are all useless already but for performing labor. And if any of you think otherwise, I assure you I will have you _begging_ for your death."

~

Ah, her head _hurt_. 

"Why don't you get some rest?" asked Nefertiti kindly. 

Hermione blinked and turned to the stone bust of the Egyptian queen peering out from a nearby shelf. Nefertiti smiled her graceful smile. 

"She isn't going to succeed if she's _lazy_," growled a plaster bust of Beethoven on a neighboring shelf. 

Hermione had to grin. 

"You must learn to keep a fine balance," said the Buddha soothingly from the other side of the room.  

"Hey, guys, do anyone of you recognize this text?" Hermione asked. 

The statues didn't say anything. 

"Get out for a while," said another voice. Hermione turned. It was an oil painting of Elizabeth I. 

"After all," continued the regal-looking queen. "You've been in here for three nights straight without moving from that spot." 

"I do believe you're the hardest working scholar we've had in some time," Buddha said diplomatically. 

"Yes, and we certainly don't want you ending up like Ludwig over there," Elizabeth said, looking disapprovingly at Beethoven. "Working day and night…"

Beethoven glared at her through his tight-knit plaster eyebrows. 

Hermione leaned back in her chair to look up at the midnight canvas above. Thoughts and more thoughts about Isiam Torch were overflowing her brain. 

She needed a break.

"Alright, I'm going out," she said finally. 

Then she stood up and walked past two of the shelves. A wall was decorated in a golden outline of a door. 

She shut her eyes and ran forwards. 

Hermione appeared outside into the altar of the Church of Madeleine. The church was darkened. Quietly, she left.

Soon, Hermione was wandering idly in the bustle of the Parisian streets regardless of the cold. She had changed into a muggle outfit – a sleeveless, tan-colored blouse with a low V-neck, with a suede jacket and a pair of a black pumps – it wasn't nothing nice, really. The blouse was rather too loose and the pumps too high. 

The Eiffel Tower's steel skeleton was lit up in golden lights. Nightly tour boats floated down the Seine, even in the winter. Everything was dark licked with strokes of golden oil paint. 

_What was the stupid language_? Hermione pondered, not paying much attention to the scenery. She still could not think of anything but Isiam Torch's journal as she walked.

She stepped into a narrow door between two shops, the magical coffee shop, Le Petit Escargot.  

"Bonsoir," greeted the wizard at the counter. Hermione ordered a sandwich and a mug of Butterbeer in English.

Hermione hadn't eaten much for days except for Madame Zanita's Concentrated Health Bars for Witches. The Butterbeer lit a happy fire in her stomach. Hermione felt a little calmer, and stressful thoughts of Isiam Torch ceased. 

Le Petit Escargot wasn't crowded. The other customers were witches and wizards inside were dressed in black work robes and sipping on jugs of rum. 

There was a handsome-looking wizard sitting at the bar. At first glance, his features reminded her of Ron, but she brushed away the thought. He was much older, of course. The wizard caught her eye at that moment and smiled. Hermione had to smile back; but then turned away quickly in embarrassment. 

But then, the man got up and sat down next to Hermione in her table. 

"May I join you," he said pleasantly. It was not a question.

"Oh, s-sure," Hermione said, surprised. 

The wizard watched her avidly, still smiling. Hermione continued to smile back, but felt uncomfortable. 

"Hi," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Jacob Nott."

"Hi," Hermione replied, still a bit surprised. "Nice to meet you. I'm – Hermione Granger." 

"What may bring a pretty young English lady like you here?"

Hermione gave him a small laugh and quickly thought of a lie. "I transferred to Beauxbatons a few years ago. I just…graduated. I'm here with…some friends, but they're out shopping." She smiled again, trying to look innocent and friendly. 

Jacob flashed a grin. He was about thirty years old, with brownish hair. He was fairly good-looking but _way, way too old_. 

_No way, not my type… Still, won't hurt to flirt a little, will it?_

Hermione got into a polite conversation with him. Jacob Nott talked a lot about his work in the Ministry and family. Hermione gently dodged any subject that led to her life or the war. 

"Wouldn't you like a tequila, sweet?" he asked, for about the seventh time. As the night went on, Jacob the Ministry worker began trying to persuade Hermione into having alcohol with him. Hermione refused everything and ordered her own Butterbeer. 

Had this been a year ago, Hermione would have been afraid. She was alone in a city at night, with an older man she didn't know offering to buy her drinks. But now, it was nothing, really. She could probably take the bastard out in one shot. 

"You know, Jacob," she said. "It's been nice knowing you, but I've got to work tomorrow." Hermione got up and swiftly walked away from Jacob. 

"I'll take you home!" he exclaimed, and grabbed her by the elbow. 

"No thanks," she said quickly, and shook him off. Hermione opened the door to Le Petit Escargot and hurried out into the night. 

"Pleeeease." He begged.  

Hermione walked as fast as she could through the streets without running. _Don't make me hurt your sorry ass, Jacob,_ she thought savagely. _You don't even know who you're dealing with_. 

He was following her. 

"Go home to your family and job, would you," Hermione said, through gritted teeth. 

A pair of hands reached from behind and halted Hermione in her walk. They held her by the shoulders and in a perverted fashion, continued their way brusquely down to her breasts and torso. 

Hermione shrieked. She broke into a run and began towards the direction of the Madeleine. 

Jacob followed pursuit. 

Now horrified and disgusted, Hermione reached for her wand. 

Jacob the attacker caught up and pushed her into an alleyway. 

_Oh that is it!_

"Impedimenta!" 

Jacob Nott gave a yell and Hermione saw him fall. Muggles on the street turned their heads… 

"You – you – " he choked from behind her. 

Hermione pulled her cloak around herself, turned and ran as fast as she could. 

~

Draco didn't see Ankar or Bardot the way he used to. They were normal to him now. It was the mortals that were different. It was nothing like the pureblood/Mudblood thing. Discrimination against Mudbloods Draco now saw as an idea so utterly stupid…but difference between a vampire and a mortal was entirely real. They were animals, prey, beneath him in every way. 

Draco was learning a lot of these things slowly, about his vampire instincts, how to best feed from a victim, when to stop. Drinking blood from a living human was fascinating. It was satisfying, terrible and delicious. Not unlike having sex, really, in that sense…but then again, still very different from sex. 

Draco had only been a vampire for two months. It wasn't long; even for a mortal, but for the wizarding world, it had been a long, tumultuous two months. Draco tried to keep track of the goings-on and latest war updates through the news, as well as the remaining Death Eaters and Aurors. The latter was difficult.  

"It'll pass in a few years," snarled Bardot every time Draco brought it up. 

A few years was supposed to mean nothing to him. 

And what about Hermione? 

Draco's vampirical companions called him 'obsessive and childish'. 

Obsessive, maybe, but he wanted to see her again. His sadistic side wanted to see if war had hardened, changed the little girl. His other side…just wanted to see her. After knowing about her recovery at St. Mungo's, Draco lost track of her whereabouts for a while. The two remaining friends of hers were still in London. But she…had run away. 

It took a few days, before Draco learned of her current whereabouts. 

_Paris._

He didn't know exactly _where_ in Paris. He assumed it was somewhere downtown. There were several magical spots in Paris, one being the Louvre, and of course several pubs and brasseries. 

Paris was a nice city. 

A good choice.

"This city. Filled with luscious blood-filled mortals speaking French who walk around at night," mused Ankar as they crossed a bridge over the river. 

 _And a premature little girl Auror running around among them_, Draco thought.

"Vampire territory," Bardot said briskly. "An old friend of ours, Lukos lives here. Interesting man…works the night shift as a Hit Wizard for the French Magical Ministry. Watch carefully…maybe you'll learn something about being a vampire Draco."

Draco listened to Bardot's talk carefully. He slipped away from them after a while, and down another street. Were there really a lot of vampires, hiding in the shadows like himself? 

A girl, a young woman stood sullenly in the shadows. A prostitute, or a sexually liberated Frenchwoman? Draco caught her attention and gestured her over. The woman wasn't very pretty or well dressed. She looked cheap…like a prostitute.

Wordlessly, Draco held her chin up to his face. She stood stilly, her tired eyes transfixed by his gaze. 

So easy it would be. The French were so…free. For vampires like Ankar and Bardot, it must be a wonderful feeding ground. 

Draco felt sorry for the mortal woman. Was it so easy to get victims? He left a neatly folded bill in her hand before leaving.  

He was still hungry for a drink, but there were more important things to do. 

~

Hermione was still walking as briskly as possible.

She had gone the opposite way of the direction of the Madeleine and was going back. 

She didn't know if Jacob Nott had recovered from her hex, but she was certain that he was not the only one chasing her. 

She felt sick, and extremely dirty, like she needed a thorough bath. Why had she left the Library? Why did she give out her real name to a complete stranger? And then hexed him in front of muggles? What if he was a Death Eater? What sort of straight wizard went around molesting women in coffee shops anyways?

Hermione calmed down a bit after a while. As she never stayed in her hotel apartment anymore, she went directly back to the Madeleine. 

It was nearing three a.m. The priest might even be there.

~

After having arranged several nighttime train stops to Paris, Draco had not fed in days however and was feeling slightly famished.

How was he supposed to start looking? There was one other magical spot in Paris that he knew about, but what was it? It was a secret library of magical documents hidden in…where was it? A church – of course – the Madeleine. 

Draco was invisible. He was weaving through the stiff, wooden crowds of muggles like liquid mercury. He would appear to them as having disappeared. Vampires have an interesting ability to be able to do that. 

He could go faster than time. There - a glint of an eyes reflecting the street lamp, for a split second her face was just visible – 

Draco stopped. Time sped up to its normal speed. The hustle of the street was alive again. Hermione. What is it her? Yes, it was. Draco could see her in plain view. He stood directly in her path, a dark figure wrapped in cloaks. 

_Clunk, clunk, clunk_ went her large, black muggles shoes. 

She walked by, her eyes on the ground. Her dark chestnut locks hung around her face, her arms wrapping her jacket stiffly about herself.

Was she really a mortal? She seemed like a goddess, like a vampire, something like himself. 

~

Hermione made her way up the tall front steps and tapped the great doors behind the imitation Greek columns of the church. They opened. Past the rows of darkened pews and the cathedral ceilings, was a light at the altar. 

She walked towards it. 

A small muggle man was kneeled in prayer.

"Father," she asked uncertainly. 

The kneeling priest got up and turned to Hermione. 

He had a kind face, wrinkled with age, and framed with white hair. He took her hand. Hermione had seen him a few times. But something that night about his presence made Hermione want to start crying. 

"Are you troubled, child?" he asked her. 

"I…don't know." Hermione began to say. Was she supposed to confess to this little man all of her troubles? Causing the death for three of her friends? Talking to a drunk, older man? 

"The Good Lord is forgiving." The priest told her. He pressed his rosary into her palm. 

For some reason, and beyond the common sense of wizards everywhere, Hermione let it all out. In a stumbling fury, she told the little muggle priest all of her troubles, about having the fault of killing, running away from them, and getting bad attention from dirty men, about the pain of war. 

Leaving out all references to magic, and telling him that she was a witch, Hermione realized that it she sounded like a runaway teenager caught in a gangster war. But still, it had all come out.  

After a few minutes, she was sobbing. 

The priest took wiped at her tears with his bare hands and continued to press the little crucifix into her palm. He watched her with kindly eyes. 

_Oh gods. He probably thinks I'm a whore and feels sorry for me_, Hermione thought. Did she look like a whore? The short skirt, the loose, low-cut blouse, the enormous high-heeled shoes…perhaps she did. 

She still felt much better, however. _Maybe these muggles religions are really much more than they're cut out to be._

"Thank you, father," she mumbled.

"May the Lord will help you on your way," the priest was saying.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Hermione whirled around. 

The door opened. All of a sudden, like winged cronies of the devil, four black-hooded men flew inside. 

Hermione screamed. The masks – they were Death Eaters! How could they have possibly – 

It was a nightmare.

The little white-haired priest held his rosary's crucifix in front of him as a sign of protection. 

Hermione scrambled to find her wand. A cackling Death Eater neared them.

She screamed and leapt out of the way, trying to pull the priest away. He was praying, praying furiously for his salvation. 

"Please stop," she begged, half to the priest to stop praying and run, half to the Death Eater. But the muggle was now on his knees, and the Death Eater had raised his wand – 

"_Avada Kedavra_!" 

Hermione froze in terror. There was a flash of green light. And the little praying man had crumpled in a heap on the floor.

She stared in fear at the masked killer for a split second. 

A split second later, she was thrust into levitation in midair. 

_"Crucio_." 

And then she was twitching, twitching with every inch of her body, in the sheer burning, _burning_, _burning_ pain, _pain_, _PAIN!!!_  

~

Draco had been wandering broodingly for some time. But he had a feeling about something, something that might lead him to Hermione. 

Because the group of black-clothed men that had just walked past him were Death Eaters. Not only did Draco recognize them personally, but mortals all talked too loud.

He followed them. 

They led him to a large neo-Grecian building, which Draco knew as the Church of Saint Mary-Magdalene, the Madeleine. 

The Death Eaters opened the front door. The church was dark, but the dark was only more vivid to Draco's new eyes. He held his wand readily and watched. Two figures were inside. One had brown hair – yes. It was she. Hermione. The glint of her expression – was definitely Hermione. 

Curses began to fly.

The other muggle was killed immediately. Hermione could not react to the ambush fast enough to get her wand. 

Another incantation was yelled. _The Cruciatus Curse?_ Draco heard screaming from a screaming voice he was only used to hearing at school Quidditch matches and insults directed towards him. It took only a single movement of his wand  – 

"_Stupefy._ "

Three masked, black-clad Death Eaters hit the church floor. 

~

_PAIN!_ _BURNING!_

And then, it ceased. 

Was she getting used to the pain? Was she dead? 

The magic holding her body up ceased too. Hermione dropped slowly again to the floor. 

In the darkness, Hermione could see four bodies lying around her. To her right, underneath a pathetic heap of white clothing was the priest, open-mouthed and eyes half-closed. He was dead. 

But the three Death Eaters were down, too. Were they dead, too?

Why was she alive? 

The grand doorway was open to the outside world. 

And there was a figure standing outside. 

"Wait!" Hermione yelled. 

The figure turned. 

Hermione ran after it.

"Don't leave!" she screamed. 

Whoever the person was – presumably a man, was leaving.

Hermione raced out the door. 

"Who are you?" she yelled at him. "Is it you that keeps saving me?"

The cold night outside of the church hit her hard in the face. The man walked quickly. Hermione ran after him. 

"Are you an Auror? Who are you?" she screamed. 

The man heard her, he had to. But he didn't turn around. He just kept on his way into the night.

 "Tell me who you are!" Hermione begged to the man's back.  "Look, I'm tired. I just need to know who you are and what game you're playing with me because this is just – just – not right –"

Hermione was not prepared for the person she was about to face. She had no clue, none whatsoever of his identity. That was why her heart nearly burst out of her chest when he turned around.

"_Draco Malfoy_!" Hermione screamed.

 Draco stood frozen, every fiber of his supernatural being uneasy. 

"It's you!" she gasped. He could tell that she was completely taken aback.

_Is it you that keeps saving me? Tell me who you are! I just need to know who you are and what game you're playing with me…_

_God damn this shit_, Draco thought. 

What was he supposed to say?

Even he didn't know what he was doing. 

He was playing a game. He wanted her to follow him, so that he could listen to her pretty little whiny voice. 

"Yes." Draco said quietly. He didn't know what to say. This was different from the last few times they met. She was not unconscious, nor were they in the situation to duel or fight. 

 "You're supposed to be dead," she whispered. 

Draco laughed out loud. "Dead? Maybe I am."

Hermione leaned up to his face and peered into his eyes, her own brown ones large and questioning. "You – are you an angel?" Then, as if she realized the incredulousness of the question, added, "I mean…you look – very – um – you – "

Draco watched her intently. 

Hermione seemed to realize that she was staring and proceeded to shake the look off her face. "I'm sorry – I – did you really save me?" 

Hermione didn't believe it. _Draco Malfoy?_ He was alive? Was the platinum-blond haired man standing in the cold, midnight air in front of her really Draco Malfoy, dangerous Death Eater, whom she had hated for half her life? One of the Death Eaters whom she had blamed herself for killing? 

Her head spun.

And why was it that his skin was so pearly and beautiful, his eyes so translucently gray, his lips so pink, and his hair, so perfect, as if from a dream? 

She was staring. It was mesmerizing. He looked like one of those… vampires…

"Are you…a vampire…?" she whispered.

Draco Malfoy turned his head away. He started to leave again. 

"Malfoy! Malfoy – wait…Y-You just saved my life. I need to ask you…"

"Stay away from vampires, Granger." He replied coldly. 

Hermione chased him down the Madeleine's great stone steps. "You _are_ a vampire." 

"So stay away from me. I'm dangerous."

"And you're a Death Eater, too. A vampire and a Death Eater. Wait - " Hermione reached out and grabbed him by the arm.  

Draco Malfoy snapped his head around and glared at her. "It shouldn't make a difference to you whether I'm either, Mudblood," he said coldly. "If I don't kill you for your muggle blood, I'll do it for your mortal blood."

"You'd kill me? Then why did you just save me if you'd kill me anyways?" 

Malfoy gave her a look of the coldest fury. The light in his eyes flared. Hermione bit down on her tongue. Maybe she said too much. 

Draco Malfoy suddenly grabbed both of her wrists and held them up, face-level. Hermione shivered. His nails dug hard into her skin. 

He glared straight into her eyes again. She found it impossible to look away this time. His dancing gray eyes were drilling into hers. His fingers tightened their grip on her wrists. It subtly hurt, but Hermione was frozen. 

What happened next was unexpected. Very, very slowly, Draco Malfoy, her left wrist still tightly in his fingers, brought it to his mouth. Eyes never leaving her gaze, his lip curled up to expose his long, white fangs.

Was she still breathing? Malfoy brought his fangs closer until they were grazing her skin. 

It tingled unnaturally. The two tiny pinpricks sunk themselves into her arm, deeper and deeper until the skin broke. Hermione stayed unmoving. A trickle of bright red blood flowed from the spot where Draco Malfoy's teeth met her wrist. 

As if naturally following through, Hermione felt the warm, wet feeling of his mouth over the wound. His tongue was lapping at the blood, his teeth, still cutting inside. He sucked at it very gently, but Hermione could feel a jolt course up her arm. 

_What is going on?_

She felt him repeat the process to her other wrist. When he finished, each of the wounds were clean, almost as good as new. Now Hermione's entire body was trembling furiously. 

 Draco Malfoy let her arms go.  

 "Now, stop putting yourself right under the nose of danger. You should know what they can do to you. Smart-ass Granger, so clever in school yet you don't even have enough sense to take care of yourself," Malfoy smirked. "So I'm warning you now. Obviously you can't defend yourself without your two bodyguards within a two-foot radius."

Hermione wanted to stop him again. But she couldn't move. 

He walked away. 


	10. Chapter Ten

A/N: *wince* 

Alright…it's been more than two months. Now I know what those authors are talking about when they say that work and school are taking over their lives. I am _so_ sorry. My piano exam has drained more out of my time and energy than I ever imagined, all on top of homework. 

This chapter has also been delayed due to a painful plot hole. When it _was_ finished, doubtful responses from my betas (Hell's Hauntress and Hyde) didn't exactly add to my enthusiasm. I do promise a longer chapter next time, which will in about two-four weeks. 

And thank you forevermore for the reviews! 

~Tabby 

**Chapter Ten**

_The pinpricks were burning. It wasn't painful. Rather, it was painfully pleasurable. And Malfoy had her wrists held in his hands. He was looking up, those translucent gray eyes, but his mouth was still pressed to her arm – _

Hermione woke up. 

The sky on the ceiling above her was the deep, passionate blue of right-at-sunset.

She sat up. She was back in the Library of Madeleine.  __

_Malfoy._ She thought she had killed him. Along with all those others she had killed. But – he was alive. 

 "Where on earth did you go last night?" asked Elizabeth I curtly. 

Hermione's thoughts were so scrambled and excited that she didn't hear the queen talking. She was fascinated – if he wasn't dead, then what about the others? She wanted to talk to him! Badly. She wanted to find her old rival…whatever and wherever he was… 

Hermione's eyes darted to the place where her wrists were bitten. 

Two tiny white dents flecked each one. 

Draco, Draco, Malfoy, Malfoy. This had struck a flint, a new spark of adventurous daring had lit, and it danced inside her. He was a mysterious new lead…frightening; but fascinating. Whether she really wanted catch him for the sake of fulfilling her duty as an Auror, or some other reason, she did not really care. Thoughts of Torch were shoved hastily aside for the moment. 

Hermione turned to look at the famous art figurines.__

_Leave your worries here tonight, _spoke Nefertiti. _Go find him_. 

_I will_, Hermione promised. 

The Death Eaters she had stripped of all traces of magical belongings and called the police to deal with the bodies…it wasn't her concern anymore…

Nightfall. She would find him. 

Hermione jumped up and run for the Library's magical exit. 

"And just where do you think you're going?" sniped Elizabeth crossly, but the strange and feisty young witch was already gone.

~

Draco's eyes were closed. His fledgling fangs pressed against his tongue almost to the point that they bled – a nervous, human tendency. 

Nightfall. 

He had fed; a young teenage male's corpse lay cold and stiff behind him in the shadows. 

The new blood now seeping through his body was uneasy. 

But at least he wasn't thirsty anymore.  

And he could see Hermione. Standing outside the Madeleine, where tape had been laid to mark a scene of crime, he waited in the open. She was going somewhere…important. He could see the bright look of calculation in her eyes. 

Just then, he had an urge to throw his head back and laugh giddily. What a mad game he had started. Mad? Or was it brilliant? She was looking for _him_. 

All he had to do now was wait.

~

The blond haired figure stood in the square in front of the church. An odd spotlight shone on him. 

Hermione took a step forwards from the steps and towards him. 

He had on a long gray jacket. But, his stature was unmistakable. And that hair.

His back was turned. Hermione was close enough to reach out and touch him. Just as she was about to tap him on the shoulder – 

She blinked. 

He was gone. 

Hermione's eyes sprinted around the landscape. _How did he…?_

And then something caught her eye. Twelve or so feet away, a body lay hardly noticeable by a gutter. 

Edging nearer, she felt her stomach tighten. There, lay neatly a young muggle body, open-eyed, frozen, with mouth gaping. The skin was bluish with pale, and completely, one hundred percent dead. 

Hermione's head spun. 

_What… is he?_

No later then she lifted her eyes from the corpse did she spot him. Thirty feet away, down the street, calmly standing next to the passing muggle cars. 

He flashed a startling grin and disappeared again. 

_Oh god. It's the Cheshire vampire game._

~ 

Half an hour later, Hermione was frantically trying to make sense of what she was doing. 

Every time she saw him, he disappeared and reappeared a distance away. She was Apparating in front of dozens of muggles every minute. 

_This is insane!_

Hermione's lungs fought for breath. He was seriously making fun of her, and she didn't like it. He knew she would have to go after him, and was making use of this power. 

_That son of a bitch!_

Hermione gritted her teeth. 

_This has got to be a trap!_

The muggles around them were getting confused and scared. _Forget anti-muggle security_. Hermione concentrated once more on the spot from where Malfoy was quietly smiling at her. 

The Eiffel Tower was in view. Stop. Apparate. Stop. Apparate. 

He stood, now, at the base of the enormous steel skeleton that loomed above them against the Paris sky. He was in the crowd, with that strange glow around his body. 

_Blink_. 

He was gone. Hermione couldn't see him anywhere in the landscape.

And she _knew_ that he would be at the very top of the tower. 

_I'll be goddamned for this_, Hermione cursed. But she lifted her wand – 

~

A shriek. 

Draco turned to see a middle-aged muggle tourist stumble and fall back on the railing. 

"I'm so sorry! _Pardon_! Pardon!" cried the young brown-haired woman who had crashed into her. 

But the woman wasn't about to be satisfied with an apology. She was in hysterics, because the younger woman didn't just crash into her; she had appeared out of nowhere and knocked her to the ground. 

Draco laughed out loud. 

The tourist standing next to him gave him a funny look and edged away. 

"Hey," he cried softly, to the young woman, who was now blurting contrived explanations to the one she had crashed into. 

She immediately caught on and looked at him. 

"Malfoy." 

"_Bonsoir,_ Hermione."

~

Hermione's throat went dry. 

Draco Malfoy, the Death Eater/vampire stood there, leaning against the railing in the harsh cold that was amplified so high up in the city. His blond hair floated idly in the wind. His skin was ever penetratingly bright in the navy-colored night; unabashed by the golden lights of Paris. 

Hermione wondered why it was so weird, that he stood out in the crowd of ordinary people like an ore in the coal.  

But she summoned her courage. 

"_Bonsoir_, Hermione." He said quietly.

Something caught in her throat at the sound of his voice; it was _scary_. 

_Stop this, dammit! It's just Malfoy!_

"Shut up, Malfoy." she countered uneasily. "Why the hell did you drag me all the way around the city to bring me here for?" 

"You didn't have to follow me."

"Well –" 

_Great_. 

"Well – god damn you! You know very well I'm not playing around! So don't – do this!" 

He smiled again. 

Hermione's wand was out in half a second. 

"Don't, Malfoy!" she screamed. "If you disappear on me again I'll kill you!" 

He disappeared. 

Hermione felt panic prickling on her back more than the anger. She wasn't half as sure as she sounded about what she wanted to do. _What am I getting into?_ Her eyes scanned the small crowd of muggles on the deck, most of who were giving her fearful looks and were heading back inside the tower. 

And then – she felt the presence of a hand over her shoulder. 

"Hermione."

She turned to face him. "Stop it! Who _are_ you, you –" 

For once, he stood still and faced her, his body square to hers. 

Hermione coughed words from her throat between her jumpy breath. "You've been – following me. For the longest time. I want to know what you want! How did you possibly disappear and reappear like that…without a wand? _Malfoy_?" 

His grayish glance caught hers. 

Hermione thought she saw the slightest twitch of a smirk on his lips. 

"Yes, that's my name." He whispered, in a tone that could only count as _soothing._ "Don't be so scared. I wouldn't hurt you –"

"Don't lie!" she screeched, stepping back, away his transfixing aura. "I saw what you did – " She pointed her wand directly at his neck.  

Draco Malfoy glared at her. Without that ever-so-familiar look that confirmed his identity, he was a different person. He wasn't human. 

"I said I wouldn't hurt _you_." 

"_Impedimenta_!"

The blast of magic missed. Draco Malfoy stood there, as ever before. The muggle bystanders were beginning to walk away from the two suspicious strangers, nervously filing off the deck. 

As if in slow motion, Hermione saw Draco take out his own wand from his pocket. She heard him calmly say a spell, and ducked, countering with her own spell as quick as her senses allowed. The movement was all too fast to follow, but she knew that the spell had missed and hit a muggle. 

Any muggle that hadn't already been heading for the door certainly was now. 

Hermione and Draco were now all-out dueling. 

It was a pointless fight, this they both knew. Hermione never could hit him…and for some reason, he never hit her either. 

It wasn't until they heard footsteps on the elevator clanking up the steel tower when they seemed to remember their surroundings. 

Hermione's breath heaved as she held onto the railing. She was tired. 

"The muggle – policemen – security – " she gasped. 

Malfoy walked up to her until they stood toe-to-toe. 

"You aren't really afraid of them, are you?"

"Well – I don't know, but…" she stammered. Ahhh, they were standing disturbingly close. It reminded her of the little dents on her wrists and…

Then – 

As if an idea transformed instantly from mind to reality, Hermione felt Draco's lips, and the touch of his teeth lightly on her neck. Skin to skin, hair to hair, sense to sense, her entire body was intrigued. Her hands reached up – to resist? To pull him closer? – but he caught her fingers in his. This she could not help but to yield to, her wand, slipping easily from her grasp.

_Clank_. 

The elevator was nearly at the top. 

"We need to get out of here!" Hermione managed to say, never mind that she was now wand-less. 

The elevator door was opening. 

What happened next was completely unexpectedly. Draco grabbed Hermione by her shoulders, and jumped. They floated off the ground, and he lifted her the two of them over the railing – and plummeted down from the height of the Eiffel Tower.

If she had screamed, she couldn't have heard herself in the wind blowing past her ears. Hermione thought was would have died. The ground came faster and faster at her. Headfirst and holding on to each other, they fell. The heart quaked –  

_Aaahhh!_

_We're going to die_…

Except that they didn't. 

Some few feet from the ground, the rush slowed. The entire world slowed. 

Hermione and Draco Malfoy landed, very softly on their feet, on what was a roof of a building of average height. Hermione's heart pounded like hailstones on pavement. And shaking like a leaf in a storm, she thought her knees would give way from beneath her. But she forced herself to look up and stare Draco in the face, no longer able to hide her unrestrained amazement. 

~

Harry went over what he had been told in his mind again. 

Cho Chang had tried to enter the Chamber of Secrets. 

Well, of course she'd never have been able to. She must have known that. 

But it was interesting, of course. After Hermione had given them that piece of information, it was sure that there had been something to do with the Books. Cho Chang had been tied to all sorts of dealings with the Dark Side lately, and even with the vampires. 

Cho? The image of the girl Harry had liked in school came to his mind. It was a bit unsettling to think of her as anything but. 

_This is no time to get nostalgic_, Harry grumbled to himself. 

He sighed. A carefully aimed spell at the front door of the Hogwarts castle threw it open. 

He entered. 

The Great Hall was dusty. Harry remembered his mission and hurried through. The hallways he would always know by heart.

An echo rang out in the walls with every one of Harry's footsteps. It took him no more than a minute to find the correct passage that would take him closest to the out-of-order girls' toilet on the first floor. 

_Creak_, went the door. Harry took a few steps, unsure of what was waiting for him. 

The room was empty, the stalls cold and forlorn. The floor, which was almost always flooded, was dry. Harry went up to the sink that hid the entrance to the chamber, and peered at the tiny snake carved unto its tap.

"_Open_." He commanded. _Hiss._

And the sink moved aside to reveal the pipe that lead downwards. 

"Here goes," he said to himself. 

Harry had not entered it since his second year at Hogwarts, but now stepped into the darkness. 

It was unexpectedly fast. Harry zoomed down the grimy track, completely blind. He nearly yelled out at a point where the pipe lurched and threw him in the air for a moment. But in a short time, he hit the floor. 

Harry got up, and lit up the darkness with the _Lumos_ spell. It took no time before he came to the true entrance of the Chamber. On a side note, he had no idea Torch could have been a Parselmouth. 

Anyways, Harry continued through the halls of the damp, underground rooms, passing all sorts figurines in the form of snake worship. He cast a few simple disarming spells in some strategic places, and before long, a patch of ordinary wall opened to reveal a pedestal lit with a magical light. 

"Wow," Harry whispered, brushing some of his messy black hair from his forehead. The eerie light emitted from the display glowed about the room behind him. On it stood a large book. Its cover was a black, but almost translucent, as if carved from a large precious stone. Some runes were etched into the front. With a nervous hand, he reached for it. 

"Ahhhhhh!" 

The moment his fingers made contact with the pages, they were stuck tight. And Harry's entire body was electrocuted with a magic force beyond his recognition. 

~

_My god._ Hermione thought.  

Draco had on a look that she couldn't decipher.

They stood there in a tense silence for a few seconds.

Hermione then noticed that Draco still had her wand, dangling it between his fingers like a cigarette at his side. 

She reached out and snatched it. 

"_Petrificus_ –"

Draco made a slight shift of his shoulders as if to dodge the spell, but Hermione's movement shifted just as he did, and the blast of energy hit his shoulder. As if it didn't affect him, however, Draco opened his mouth to begin to say something – 

"_Expelliarmus! Suspendium Leviosa_!" Hermione screamed. 

And with that, the tall blond wizard was sent flying backwards into midair, and with a flick of her wrist, sent sprawling onto the edge of the flat rooftop. 

Hermione sprang forward, took his wand from his loosened grasp and pinned him down by the shoulders. 

Now she finally seemed to have the upper hand. 

He stared coolly at her.

"What do you want from me?" Hermione demanded, breathing hard. "Leave me alone. Stop following me. If you don't get out of this city - you'll be sorry." 

"You're threatening me like a blindfolded dragon in a cage," he said softly. Then a small smirk appeared on his face. "Wrong. Not up to your usual standard, Miss Grange–" 

"I mean it!" she shrieked. "I'll report you, you despicable Death Eater. I'll take you to the ministry tonight and them deal with you! You'll go to Azkaban." 

Draco broke out into a grin. Laughter was positively dancing in his sharp gray eyes. "Report me, then!"

Hermione clenched her fists harder upon his shoulders. Altogether fear, frustration and anger were bubbling up from her insides. 

She jabbed both the wand tips into his neck. Her voice became dangerous. "I _swear_ I'll kill you. _Don't_ provoke me. Don't think I won't dare. I swear to god I'll do it."

And then Draco pushed her off of him, and in one quick movement flipped her onto her back. Their positions were switched. 

"Where's your Gryffindor nobility now?" he asked mockingly. Strands of his blond hair fell close to Hermione's face. "After I saved you from that group of…_despicable_ Death Eaters who were chasing you?" 

"I could've dealt fine on my own!" Hermione snapped. She grabbed his shoulders and pushed him hard. Surprisingly easily she had him back on his back, but then got a feeling that he had been going easy on her the whole time. 

"Either way, it's a wizard's debt." 

_He's right_. 

_Damn._

He flipped her back again, his knees straddling her at the hips. 

Hermione gazed up at him. 

Smooth, pale skin coloration. Eyes like stone rings. Pink lips that revealed extraordinarily sharp teeth. 

Why was it that something about him caught her every time, every time she meant to hurt him? And what was hidden beyond that strange appearance?

Somehow Hermione had the urge to reach up and run her thumb over his lips and teeth. 

So she did. 

_He's still just a Death Eater._

As if he could hear her thoughts, he grinned. 

"_Blood sucker_," he whispered, and brought his face to hers that their noses nearly touched.   

_Oh god, don't_. 

"You bastard," she spat. But it was beyond that now. 

_Breathe in, breathe out._

"Demon?" With that he kissed her on the lips, and she knew that even if she wanted to, she could not push him off. She was losing all control of sanity.

"_Incubus_," she groaned. 

And her eyes closed, and she rolled her tongue over his fangs, and his body fell completely limp against hers. And she didn't know anything else but to push harder into the kiss.

~


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven 

~

_Yes, yes, yes_, Hermione thought vaguely. _Relief_.

There was heat, wonderful overpowering heat, pressing her mouth and body. 

Relief? Yes, just to clutch his body close to hers and feel the explicit pleasure. Sexual suppression was liberating itself. 

Tongues pushing hard against each other in their mouths, they were writhing still, on the rooftop. _Yes, yes_, _I need this_, Hermione decided. It was all that mattered in the world right then, the softness of his lips, the hot sweetness of the inside of his mouth, and the masochistic blisters she was getting on her tongue from stroking the edges of his teeth. Her body was heating up, and her hands were clawing all over his back in a ravenous desire for touch. 

Their faces still profile to profile in the city lamplight, Draco Malfoy pulled away the long kiss. 

His gray eyes were once again holding her frozen in their surreal connection. Hermione felt her lungs struggling for breath.

Now his fangs were piercing his own bottom lip: red droplets of blood seeping forth from the pink skin. And he stayed there, just waiting, his sharp teeth letting himself bleed.

This had an insane effect on Hermione. She was going mad with the driving desire to grab and kiss him on his bleeding lip. She wanted to taste it, she wanted to press herself against his hard body, wanted to suck on that self-inflicted cut, wanted him, wanted him, _wanted_ him…    

She pulled his head closer towards hers, and felt his fine strands of hair soft on her palms, the skin on his neck cool and smooth. His hands found their way into her robes and under the shirt she wore underneath, brushing close to her breasts.

Hermione's body flushed with heat. 

And then, Malfoy deftly avoided her kiss, and instead moved to neck. Tantalizing trails of wet kisses went down her neckline. He pulled her collar down to her bare shoulder, and Hermione could smell the seductive scent of blood as he laid fierce hiccies all over her neck. Hermione found her body aching, and the heat burning between her legs as they closed, almost automatically, around his hips, straddling him. 

She could hear his breath speed up maddeningly.

_Ahh!_ – she gasped. 

A raw, sharp sensation of pain shot at the base of her neck. Malfoy bit into exposed skin. Slowly and sensually he was drawing out _her_ blood. 

_Ahh-ohmygod-ahh –_

_Yes, yes, yes_, and she was getting light-headed, intoxicated, giddy, giddy, giddy! Her whole body was screaming and she was squirming uncontrollably under this delicious, wet kiss. __

Oh, this was what she _needed_, before anything else could be considered, this was what she _needed_. Who cared if love had truth if it just felt _right_, warm and so _very_ gratifying, just to cling to his body? All that mattered was the beautiful, dizzying, wonderful, wonderful, giddy feeling! Who cared if she could end up hurt, who cared if he was anything wrong, a vampire, a Death Eater, an unfathomable stranger? Who _cared_? _WHO CARED_?    

She was aching underneath, beneath her electrically tingling skin, but at the moment, she couldn't think of a better feeling in the world.

~

It was like she was breaking down. 

Or at least, to Draco, she was unfolding into more basic parts. 

Every time he had her in his arms she was vulnerable. She was holding on to him as if she was afraid she would fall if she didn't. When she was fighting, she was a good dueler, but who knew what a breakable shell she had? Her outer protective armor was more delicate than it appeared. 

Mesmerizing. 

Draco couldn't resist it: he bit down on his own lip to make it bleed. And then watched, amused as she squirmed and squealed lustfully in his arms. 

Her temperature was rising.

His hand found their way into her robes. 

He felt her sticky skin, heard her whimper.

Her body was hot, _hot_, _hot_, and was sending jolts of indescribable pleasure racing his system like nothing before. 

He was sucking at her skin and kissing her hard all over her neck, leaving lines of his own blood on her bare skin. She was straddling him hard around the hips, making him shudder with arousal. 

Skin on skin.

Draco was touching her in any possibility he could, tasting the ridges of her shoulders, the contours of creamy skin, the rustling of her hair. 

_Dreaming_…

But it was the next thing he did that Draco had no control over whatsoever. Almost in natural coordination, he felt his teeth break into a soft spot in her neck 

And then all of a sudden he was sucking on the delicious, sweet, salty liquid that was seeping slowly from the nick in her neck. It was dizzying and perfect. If he went on, she would keep whimpering softly in his arms, and they would both keep whirling on in this drunken state. 

Draco was _high_ on it, couldn't get enough of it. He just wanted to take off more of her clothes and revel in her body. Taste all her fluids, explore every delicious part. 

Hermione, his tiny, goddess-like siren, the fragile, moaning sex kitten in her exposed semi-conscious state, pulled his lips to hers.

And then they were kissing passionately on the mouth. 

Her body arched underneath him. Heat pounded his arousal. 

Draco found himself falling deeper as she held to his lips with her full, sweet kisses. His tongue slid into her mouth, and he shivered as she once again ran her teeth over his fangs. It was all so _infatuating_ and enticing, yet fresh…and exciting…as if they were stupid young experimenting preteens.

But what was it tugging on the back of his mind?   

_Stop! Stop!_

_Wait, goddammit…_what the hell was he doing? 

The cut. The cut on his lip. What would happen if she managed to take in any of his vampire blood – 

He tore away from her in an instant. 

To make her a vampire by accident was…the most unthinkably stupid thing possible. And he wasn't that stupid. 

He shouldn't have let it go so far.

Now she was waking up, if waking up was what you'd call it. Open robe collar flapping in the wind, the blood that was Draco's staining her lips and neck, and the blood that was hers still trickling a bit down her chest. 

Hermione stared at him, sitting precariously on the roof under the golden lamplight, looking dazed and bewildered. 

It took a few moments before they could cool down and speak.

Next to where they had been lying were their two wands, which had been left from their duel – the initial incident that caused their meeting (yet had been forgotten in the process). Hermione picked them up and put them into her pocket.   

"What would have happened if we didn't stop?" she whispered. 

Draco didn't answer her question – not yet at least.  

~

"You've got it?" 

Harry nodded. He unclasped the chained metal dog tag from around his neck and de-Transfigured it back into the large black book, the one with intricate designs carved exquisitely over the cover. 

McGonagall, Dumbledore, Moody, Sirius, Remus, Ron and Seamus all peered at it. 

"Well, this is it." Harry said simply. 

The object looked dull, not illuminating any sort of strange light as it was before. 

Dumbledore crouched over, his bright, alert eyes gleaming behind his half-moon glasses as he stared closely at the magical object. "Were there any problems?" 

"There was some sort of hex on it," Harry replied. "But it wasn't hard to resist eventually. It was some sort of Shocking Hex. But I put a Neutralization Spell on it and it was okay…"  

Sirius, his harsh features set in a stony-jawed scowl, stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Then he walked over and put a protective hand on his godson's shoulder. 

Remus, Ron and Professor McGonagall each shot Harry equally sympathetic looks.

Moody looked as formidable as always. 

Seamus stood quiet and subdued, as was his nature since The Accident. 

Harry waited for Dumbledore's assessment. 

"Well," spoke the older wizard. "I suppose we'll carry on with the plan as before. Harry, we will all try to assist you as best as possible. But, with your abilities to read and comprehend Parseltongue…the interpretation will be up to you." 

"But Albus –" McGonagall began, pale-faced. 

"There is no better way." 

The whole room of Aurors was silent. 

Harry braced himself for another load to be dumped on his shoulders. 

And he nodded. 

~

He held her around her waist protectively, like any caring male figure to his female counterpart. Hermione heard him speak several incantations, before both of them were surrounded by waves of silky green and yellow light – a Binding Charm, meant to hold their bodies together for other self-enhancing spells such as Apparition. Then, he Apparated, and they were both transported away from the rooftop on which they had just spent the last half hour (or had it been even longer?) in a desperately sweltering bodily inducement. 

They were now in front of the Champs-Elysée Floo Station. 

It was an ordinary place where wizards flowing in and out twenty-four hours a day made a place where they could sit and talk normally, perhaps even over a mug of coffee. 

_Which is so ironic_, Hermione thought.  

How could he have become so calm all of a sudden? The red flush and quickened pulse had not yet stopped for her. But Malfoy was now cool and expressionless as ever, the red scab on his lip only adding to his quietly dangerous demeanor. 

What had happened?

It was just that all of a sudden his fangs had dug into the skin in her neck, and completely entranced, she had been almost devoid of the power to stop it. She had almost been far too out of it to register any loss of orientation. Until when she kissed _him_. That was when he snapped out of it. 

It had all stopped there. 

For a second after, she had forgotten everything, where and why she was there. 

Hermione was confused and shaken. She was shivering all over under her thin robes, now that her body remembered to be cold. She had to force her feet to walk straight and maintain her dignity.  

"W-why are we here?" she asked him. Her voice came out wobbly, and her teeth chattered. 

Malfoy. What were his intentions, anyways?

One minute, they were arguing, then flying off the Eiffel Tower, then dueling, then having the world's most addictive snog, and then…

Malfoy turned and stared at her, unable not to be sarcastic. "Don't you want to go somewhere where it's warm and safe?" 

Hermione's jaw dropped.   

"What – why?"

He looked annoyed. "If we're going to talk, don't you want to do it someplace where it'll be more comfortable for you?"  

"Talk? Really – but I – can I even _trust_ you?"  

There was a silence. 

But perhaps it was inevitable that she was going to have to risk it.

Soon they found themselves in a wizard-operated inn near the Floo Station; they were quite lucky that it was open so late, too. Hermione found herself and Malfoy now in a small, elegant wooden parlor. The walls were framed with classic oak panels and velvety, wine-colored wallpaper and curtains (enhanced with the Insulation Charm). They sat on the soft cushioned benches that matched. 

Floating golden candlesticks brought mellow lighting, and two violins, a viola and a cello were set in a corner.

The room was heated comfortably by a small fireplace; the ambiance was calming and Malfoy had ordered a bottle of some expensive-looking sort of wine. Apparently, he still had his family's taste for extravagant spending. Hermione, at first had supposed it was all for her; suspecting that he probably didn't drink normal beverages, except that there were two goblets on the table. Being far too _exhausted_, though, she had no urge to binge-drink herself sick.

The invisible string quartet floated into midair and began playing, and the bottle of wine began pouring itself into the two goblets.

Malfoy sat across from her. His porcelain cheekbones, gray eyes, translucent blond hair, and expertly loose black robes, and visibly long teeth were perfectly fitting to their surroundings. He was very still, and his crude smirk was replaced by a look of tranquil sophistication. He seemed fitting in the fancy room; Hermione herself had never been entertained by a musician-less string quartet before. 

_He probably lives like this every day_. 

Still, Hermione found herself staring blatantly.

The strong, dry taste of the alcohol Hermione found warming. She sipped it and began to forgive what had happened, felt a bit more relaxed, trusting. 

"So, you didn't answer my question," she blurted. "What would've happened if we had kept going?

"I would've given it to you." He answered quietly. "The Dark Gift. By accident." 

"Oh." 

There was a pause. 

"So how did it happen? How did you become what you are? A vampire? I mean, I don't know the story…" Hermione's voice spilled over with curiosity. 

 "Why don't you tell me something about you instead?" He smiled artfully. "I think it'd be more fair that way…you can tell me why you're here in Paris…and I'll tell you something about me."

Hermione swallowed some more of the drink and rocked back and forth in her seat. 

"I'm not supposed to. Any Auror working for the Ministry is sworn to secrecy." She said, shrugging.

"And you know I could have killed you back there, you _valiantly pure_ Auror." Draco whispered sharply, leaning over the table to hiss in her ear.  

Hermione looked scared for almost an instant.

"Do you have to kill…you know, to live?" 

"Yes," he whispered. Draco brought his lips very close to hers, until she started to look uneasy. "Just like you need to eat and sleep. I crave it just like you would oxygen if your lungs were under water…" 

He traced down her neck with one fingertip and felt a slight nervous tremor under her skin. 

"You know what it feels like, don't you?" he breathed. "You know what it feels like to want it." 

All Draco wanted to do at that moment was to lean down and kiss her on the lips. But instead, he pulled away, and let her fall back in her chair. It would easy just to entrance her with all powers being a vampire allowed him…but it wasn't supposed to work that way.

He let the spell fade. 

Hermione regained her courage. "Besides…what would Harry and Ron say if they knew I was here, telling _you_ about their whereabouts?" 

She laughed dryly.

"Then again…if it weren't for _Ron_, and that night he was with _Lavender_, I probably wouldn't be here." 

Draco's eyebrow suddenly arched.

_Weasley? With Lavender Brown?_

"Her? The entire Hogwarts year was under the impression that Weasley was with _you_." 

"No, no. Never mind." She said quickly. 

But Draco was interested. Was there something more scandalous going on between the Light Aurors than just magical intelligence? Although the thought of that old witch McGonagall switching lovers with Dumbledore and Potter might be hilariously amusing.

Then again, Ronald Weasley, cheat on Hermione Granger with that blond Gryffindor airhead?

"Is that why you're alone here?"

Hermione shrugged, a lock of hair falling from behind her ear. "Harry, Ron, I guess _they_ need to work all they can since that time in the Louvre…"   

She gulped down the rest of her drink and the charmed bottle poured her some more. At the same time, the string quartet started a waltz. 

"And anyways, I'm the type to be doing what I'm doing. It was only fair that I volunteered. It's not like Harry and Ron gave a _damn_. I don't know if you've noticed, but sometimes they can really be…" 

"A pair of blockheads?" Draco finished for her. 

"Yeah, that's exactly it!" she exclaimed. And she tossed her hair back giggled melodiously.  

"Like this one time they insisted I go on a ride with them on this new Bluebottle broom that could sit up to four people. I was terrified, you know? I begged them not to take me because they like to fly all crazily. But they insisted. A bunch of Gryffindors were outside that day on the grounds…" 

Hermione paused to take another reckless gulp of the wine. "And then they started doing loops and dives all over the lake. I kept screaming, but they just didn't stop. They didn't know I was being serious, until finally, I really couldn't hold on and I fell into the water.

"Everyone in the entire Gryffindor _house_ was laughing. Harry and Ron apologized and all, but they just didn't realize that I had been _serious_ when I said I wanted them to stop." 

Draco was a little surprised at her unexpected release of emotions. 

She laughed harshly again. "They were always doing crazy things. Like in our second year, when we made a Polyjuice Potion and they transformed into Crabbe and Goyle and snuck into the Slytherin common room to question you about the Heir of Slytherin. Do you remember that?"

"They did that?" Draco asked. He couldn't help laughing. "The _Wonder Twins_? Make Polyjuice in their second year? Although they were probably good actors," he added. "I don't remember notice anything funny."

Hermione smiled genuinely this time. "Well, I tried to go as Millicent Bulstrode, but having taken the wrong hair samples, I got turned into some cat monster and was stuck in the hospital wing alone for the longest time. I guess they couldn't have done anything about it, but still…"

Draco watched, enraptured, as Hermione stood up with her goblet of red wine and continued with her charged monologue. 

"And what about when Ron asked Fleur Delacour to the Yule Ball? He _knew_ he had no chance with her! Boys are all like that, they leave you for whatever girl's the prettiest, and then they come and expect you just to take them right back! What right did he have to be jealous of Viktor Krum?

"_Of course_ I didn't like Viktor! But he didn't understand that! He expects me to understand when he runs off flirting with some other girl, but I can't go a place with another guy without him getting alarmed! He _never_ stops to think about what I'm feeling! He just – he just doesn't –"

Draco stood up and put his hand on her cheek. "Damn it all. You don't need them." 

At this point Hermione collapsed trembling into his arms, her body tense with all the weight of her mental stress. And Draco could only hold her as she buried her face into his chest and hugged him. 

~

It had been a fairly long night. The candles, even though they were magical, were burning lower. 

Hermione snuggled safely in Draco's lap. Somehow she had managed to rage out every single emotion that had been going on inside her, even without ever knowing they were there before. And it felt good to tell someone else who could accept and understand the raw _passion_ that she felt.

It felt very good.   

"I need to go," he whispered into her ear. 

"Do you have to?" she asked, shifting a bit. But she immediately let go and sat up. 

"Yes." 

Hermione watched his illuminated figure as he got up to leave. He opened the window to climb out and into the night. 

"Wait –" she called after him. 

He turned back. 

"Can you come back tomorrow night? You can come find me. My assignment for the Ministry is…to research a Dark Magic resource. I'm staying at the Library of Madeleine." 

She thought she saw him smirk before flying out the window.

~

Harry was alone in the magical laboratory with the book. 

It was a room equipped with all the top quality features one would need for experimental magic. Anti-reflective walls, Dark Magic-level indicators, acid-proof, transparent self-stirring cauldrons…the works. 

He knew about all the equipment, naturally. But who could be happy dealing with a magical object that could somehow make an evil wizard immortal? 

"_Neutralis Totalus_," he ordered, pointing his wand. 

Looking closely, the carvings on the cover – it seemed to be polished ebony set with onyx – there were two thin, gleaming fanged snakes twisting around a stylized caduceus, and the border was of a strange leaf and vine. Runes covered every other empty square space. 

Snakes. Parseltongue. Harry braced himself. 

"_Show me your secrets_," he commanded, and an eerie hiss came from his lips.  

The book opened itself to the first page, but there was nothing on the page. 

"_Aparecium!_" he commanded. But nothing showed up. He added a few drops of a dilution formula to reveal magical ink. But of course, it wasn't an ordinary book and the drops disappeared into the pages. 

Harry cursed under his breath. 

And then, all of sudden, he was pulled into the pages. 

Harry fell onto a spotlighted, stony surface, like the bottom of a dried-up well. The ground was hard, but he was quite sure that it was just an illusion. 

He stood up to observe his empty surroundings. He poised his wand, just in case. 

It was a dungeon-like room. The smell of dank water was prominent, but somehow it seemed lived-in. Cautiously, he took a step forward. 

Then – ahead of him, something was there! 

It was a desk. 

It was a professional magical workspace, not an ordinary Muggle's table. Its many floating shelves held bottles of herbs and pickled oddities, and a special pewter surface was there for potion-brewing. Stacks of parchment lay in a pile. 

And there was a gray-haired wizard at the table. 

He was crouching as in great concentration, on his work. 

Harry approached him slowly. 

"Sir?"

The old wizard looked up. "_Tom?_"   

"Tom?" Harry repeated, stunned. _He thinks I'm Voldemort!_

"You've come back!" cried the man hoarsely. He dropped his quill as he stood up. "I never thought we would meet again, Tom. I need to explain to you – I've been worried about you, and I've been trying to find you – "

"Stop, sir! Listen, I'm not Riddle."

" – and I –" 

The man felt silent. His intuitive dark eyes shimmered, and he peered into Harry's. 

"No. You're not." He decided. 

And he straightened up to his full height. He was very old, matching probably Dumbledore. But he was cleanly shaven, of medium build, handsome and dignified. He had long gray hair pulled back behind his ears. In a green velvet-trimmed dress robe, he looked very tall and formidable, which made Harry cautious. 

"Who are you?" whispered the old man. "_Do you speak the tongue of snakes?_"   

Harry flinched as he switched to Parseltongue. 

"I – I – _I do speak it_." 

"Are you Tom's son?" asked the man. 

"No!" Harry cried. "I'm not. Look, this is not real time. We're not real right now. We're in your future, in Isiam Torch's book."

The man was quiet in his thought again. 

Very slowly, he spoke. "I see. Then, it must be indeed, many years later. It has happened then. I am dead. This is a memory." 

Harry swallowed. 

"You looked like Tom," said the man. "I thought he would come back, after I sent him away. But I am only a memory…who are you?"

"My name is Harry Potter. Who are you?"

"Isiam Torch. Prize of Magus first class for Innovative Magical Research." 

~

Hermione slept all day and found herself waiting outside dumbly the next night as soon as it was dark. Draco – she supposed she didn't really need to call him by 'Malfoy' anymore – came to meet her. 

For some reason, she trusted Draco. Maybe it was because she just needed to trust someone, anyone familiar. Anyone that was familiar – hostile as he may have been in the past – was better than anyone unfamiliar.

"Is this where you stay?" Draco asked, after she led him by the hand to the Library. 

He was staring around the grand room, at the polished wood bookshelves and imposing gold-edged décor. "The Library of Madeleine? This famous collection of the most books in the world?" 

"Yes," she answered hesitantly, not knowing if he was meaning to mock her about being a library-dwelling bookworm. 

"Interesting that old Dumbledore found a way to let you stay here," said Draco. "You must apply as an exceptional intellect with exceptional purposes." 

"Come on, I'll show you what I have," she said. 

They sat down, and she took out the diary. 

"I've been trying to translate the final entry since forever, and I can't find anything. I've tried every single dictionary in the place, but I just can't seem to find the right one." 

Draco opened the book to the page and scanned it effortlessly, his eyes glittering so radically that Hermione thought she could read the letters reflected in his irises. 

"Have you tried rearranging these runes? Or diluting some of the ink? Maybe if you fold this – " he made a few creases in the page – "and the shapes will come together to look something closer to a stylized version of old Celtic – " 

Hermione gasped and stared at what he had figured out. 

"Rearrange a few runes here – "

"That looks like something I've seen, hold on!"

Hermione grabbed a dictionary and flipped to her desired chapter. 

"Oh my god. It's almost identical to this – " Hermione ogled at the arrangement of strange shapes that now appeared after Draco had strategically folded the diary paper. _Why didn't I think of it? It's not an uncommon technique_… 

The text was now so simply manifest that Hermione wondered why she hadn't been able to get it before. 

"You can start translating it now." Draco said simply. 

She nodded, stunned. 

Only a few short hours later, the recipe for an Immortality Potion was right on her desk. 

It was a very complicated potion, not unexpectedly. It had over forty ingredients and just as many highly-demanding procedures involved – requiring boiling under the three-quarters moon, perfectly uniform sliced roots that had to be sautéed in Bubotuber pus beforehand, exactly ninety-four Ashwinder egg yolks added one per stir of the substance once it saturated, etc. 

But quite possibly the only obstacle that couldn't be conquered from techniques taught in Senior Accelerated Potions class was the most part was getting the two key ingredient – a type of element metal that, as far as the document told, was found only in the forests of Torch's hometown – and blood from a freshly killed human life. 

"To kill a person," Draco assessed. "Life for life." 

"Well, for the other ingredients, if we go to Le Chemin de Traverse, I'm sure we can get most of these in the next week," Hermione estimated. "But to go all the way to Torchsensend…"

"Aren't your friends all parked out there on broomsticks on high security or something?" Draco asked incredulously.    

 "Ron and them have been _long_ left Torchensend for other things," Hermione said dryly.

Draco gave her a strange look. 

_Oh shit, why didn't I say_ Harry _or_ Dumbledore _instead of Ron_? 

"Is that why you haven't been concentrating? Have you been thinking about your precious Weasley while working?" 

Hermione's face burned. 

But Draco gave her a devilish, fanged grin and let it go. 

He got up and Hermione watched him as he got up onto a ladder and climb up a bookshelf. He returned with an object in his arms. 

"Here," he said. "This should help you." 

And he turned to leave. 

"Wait –" 

But the last of his black cape had flew swiftly out the magical door. 

Hermione stared at the object he brought. It was a stone basin – 

An brand new Pensieve. 

The perfect tool for sorting thoughts. 

Hermione grabbed her wand. 

~

"I have no recollection of the end," Torch said, closing his wrinkled eyelids. "I am only essence preserved at the time of my discovery of immortality – when I wrote the book."  

"Would you help me, then?" Harry asked quietly. 

"My sole purpose is to divulge the information I have sealed here." He replied. "But tell me – it is not a wizard with ordinary abilities or simple ambitions who seeks to know my works and can enter the Chamber of Secrets. What do you _want_?" 

"We are trying to learn about your ideas on Immortality." Harry said carefully. "A dark wizard wants to use them for evil purposes. And we're trying to counter him." 

Torch nodded, taking Harry's words into consideration. 

"I will tell you as briefly, as I can, Harry Potter. When I was researching most extensively for a potion that could extend human life – I came across a type of elixir – a very small quantity of an element I had never seen before in my life. I processed it very carefully and found that it matched the product that my friend Nicholas Flamel had discovered years earlier." 

"The Philosopher's Stone?" 

"Precisely," he said with a smile. "Created gold and produced a substance that allowed one's life to be extended – not really immortalized – but extended. The sample I had was probably the only known other Philosopher's Stone other than Nicholas's. We kept it a secret. 

"But once the drinker stopped drinking this substance, they would die, which is not true immortality. I wanted to do something more – create something better. 

"Being as ambitious as I was, I started melding it with ideas influenced by the Dark Arts. I used all the Black Magic I knew of and even slaughtered unicorns and tortured innocent people for experiments involving blood. 

"And then I came once again to an age-old idea."

Harry breathed in with anticipation. 

"Vampires."

"_Vampires?_" 

"Yes." Torch said seriously. "Vampires were a creation by an unknown dark wizard some centuries and centuries ago. They were thought to be legend and superstition – a mystery of magical biology - until I found otherwise. Only the most trace information is found in the rarest text. But I pieced tiny clue and clue together. They were a creation. 

"It was originally a Dark potion that when drunk, permanently enhanced a human to become this deathless creature. They were no longer humans, but a species of terrible night-lurking monster, more powerful than humans and capable of repopulating themselves. 

"They were technically immortal, feeding off living blood. They would not die of the ailments of mortals. They were a mutation of magical powers, their natural abilities far exceeding any witch or wizard with a wand.  

"It was one of the most complicated concoctions ever discovered. A concoction using the most valuable, rare procedures and elements – and a concoction that was forgotten until I re-invented it."

"You – you made vampires?" 

"Not with humans. Only a cat and a dog, my only test subjects before I realized how dangerous it was. I killed the two animals, and poured all my research into these books. I planned to seek and destroy vampires.

"But of course, I don't have memories of what happened to my future self."

Harry was in shock.

"But, vampires can be destroyed, right?" 

"Yes," Torch answered in great self-satisfaction. "That is the good part. They are only active during the night and can be killed by sunlight or fire. And destroyed is what they should be." 

~

Hermione poured out her mind. All her insecurities and problems carried on from school – to the Accident – to her experiences with Draco. 

A huge weight was lifted from her shoulders. Several of the most vivid images were played for her from a third-person point of view - of herself with Ron and Harry, of the Death Eaters, Aurors, and Hit Wizards die in the lobby of the war-torn Louvre – and of course, with _Draco_. 

The more she analyzed her mediocre relationship with Ron, the more stupid and aggravated she felt. _Damn_ him, really! She didn't want to think about him. 

Reliving the Accident helped her calm down – even accept it. 

But the most vivid in her mind, was probably of Draco Malfoy – of his pale skin and platinum hair, of his unsmiling pink lips, of his black pupils that accented a look of pure enigmatic cunning. And his sharp disturbingly sharp fangs. 

In every way, he was a demonic angel.

Hermione curled up on the futon (that was now arranged in her workspace). 

So much had been solved today. 

She felt an enormous feeling of gratitude and tenderness that she had never thought possible towards him.

Draco Malfoy.         

She went to sleep, in her mind planted a perfect image of his face.

~

A/N: Sorry for the wait! Hope it was worth it.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Disclaimer: All the below belongs to Ms. JK Rowling! I don't own anything, but I do congratulate her on her new baby and on finishing her fifth book. The poem in this chapter is copyright Hyde. Author's Note: Wow! Yes, I've finished on time. I quite like this chapter, actually. BIG thanks to my beta-readers, Hyde and Hell's Hauntress, who helped me trim and polish this. Writing has its up and downs, and I've ever grateful for help. 

And thanks to the reviews =D! Can't live without. 

Chapter Twelve 

"I went to le Chemin de Traverse today." she dumped the contents of her bag onto the table. 

Draco fingered through the pile – the still-frozen Ashwinder eggs, powdered unicorn horn, Bubotuber pus, essence of Belladonna, piles of dried herbs, and loads more. 

"And I've got the elixir," he said. 

"You have? Where did you get it?" 

"Torchensend. I know where it is, remember?" Draco took out a clear ampoule of flashing metallic-blue crumbs. 

"Wow…" Hermione began, impressed. It was really it, the special ninety-fourth purely magical element, some of the only miniscule amounts on earth. 

"Let's start then?" 

Hermione nodded and picked up the diary. 

"Start with cubing the ginseng," Hermione read from the translation. "Then we'll grind the anise and lavender, and smoke the dragon heartstrings and boil these in with the boomslang skins." 

Quite seriously, they set to work. 

The first steps were fairly easy, and they worked steadily. Chopping, grinding, smoking, boiling and preserving were standard procedure. Carefully layering the ingredients, they set the mixture. 

Some hours later, Hermione's fingers stained yellow and smelling like bitter roots and dank dragon's flesh, the boomslang-based brew was on the fire. Very carefully, reading from the book, they sprinkled in the crumbs of the elixir. It bubbled at first, swirled, and turned somewhat blue. 

Draco reached for the recipe with one long, white hand. 

"That's the first part," he said. "This should boil for at least a night, until it is fully cerulean-silver. Then we have to recite these spells over the unicorn horn and catch the moon rainwater, assuming it rains. There are nine days' boiling time until the three-quarters moon and add the mercury solution."

"And then it leaves only the human blood." 

"It's really all up to you," Draco said. 

He got up, kissed her on the forehead and disappeared among the shelves. 

_Assuming it rains…all up to you._

All sarcasm aside, Draco was a good Potions partner, considering he had been an honor student in Accelerated Senior Potions. It was a pity they had hated each other in their sixth year; else they could've have had the chance to work together before. 

"He seems nice," came a feminine voice. 

Hermione tilted her head back to see Queen Nefertiti. 

"Blasphemous," snorted Elizabeth I. 

"A conscientious worker," praised Buddha.

Hermione smiled and stretched. 

Soon Draco was back, and so the statues quieted their gossip and left them alone. He handed her a cloth, and they wiped their soiled hands.

Then, Hermione reached up and kissed him square on the lips. It was a daring move – she'd never just – _kissed_ someone like that before. It tingled. "Let's stop working now. Let's do something else."

~

Draco was laying back on the futon, with Hermione perched at his side on a cushion, hugging her knees.

A fascination in her fingers, she found herself touching his mouth and teeth with her fingertips. He was – half-human, half something…else.

Their eyes met and she felt a sort of connection click on. Drawing her breath, she leaned forward and kissed him, gently from his cheekbone to his lips. It was a moment in a brilliant and slow-moving fantasy. For that moment – who knew how long time was really lapsing? - they were in their own alcove of time and space.

"Could do with some wand-dueling now, mm?" Draco whispered. 

Hermione smiled mischievously. "I still have yours." 

"Ah, but all I have to do is find it."

And then she started laughing giddily, because he started searching her robes with his fingers and it tickled. 

~

"Let me get this straight, Harry," Ron said incredulously, again. "If You-Know-Who finds these books, he could change himself into a…vampire? And live forever?" 

"_Yes_." Harry said. 

"If you tell Dumbledore, he's going to want to destroy it." 

"Yeah. That's why we don't tell him yet. In fact, don't tell anyone. If they ask, I haven't figured out how to open it."

"Alright, Harry," Ron said uneasily. "But I dunno about this."

"We have to do something. Like alter it so that if Voldemort tries to drink the potion, it'll turn him into a fruit bat or something." 

"How the bloody hell are you going to do that?" 

"I don't know yet!" Harry snapped. He rubbed his temples furiously. _God, think!_ Come on, he was _seventeen_ years old – and he had plenty of experience with Dark Magic. But he couldn't _think_ these days. What was wrong with him? He had never felt so numb and leadless.  

Ron stopped. "Harry, look, sorry. All we need is a plan."

There was a pause. 

"It's times like now I wish Hermione was still here," Ron said awkwardly. 

"Yeah," Harry murmured. "It's been a while."

There was another pause. 

"That's it, Ron." Harry said. "We've got to owl Hermione. We ought to let her know." 

Ron nodded thoughtfully. 

"You're right, Harry. She probably wants to come back, anyway."

~

"I don't see what's so great about Paris," she said to him. 

Walking along the boardwalk of the Seine, the cold urban zephyr blew wisps of her hair around her face. To Draco, she was like a tiny diamond, sweet and pretty and brilliant and sparkling in whatever surroundings she was in – under the streetlight, she was a golden sunset over the glimmering river water. Among the parchment and books, she was a tiny guardian of wisdom, perhaps a daughter of Nostradamus himself. Under the moonlight, she was a cool blue alabaster nymph. 

Sparks simply flew from her. 

Think of what they could _be_ together. 

Draco knew he could surpass the power of his father Lucius. Being under the influence of some of the greatest wizards in Britain for his whole life didn't make him _stupid_.  It didn't take a teacher to tell him he could've become one of the most powerful wizards in the world someday. 

And _her_, save for being stuck among her subordinate stooges. She had the amazing brilliance, ambition and beauty. If he made her a vampire – did what Ankar did to him – under his family name they could become just about anything they wanted in the magical world.    

"I used to love it. Didn't you? Now it's stupid. The people. The buildings…I don't like their architecture. The art, it's always the same…" she was saying. 

"You know where I hate?" 

She cocked an eyebrow. "Where?"

"Hogsmeade. I hate Hogsmeade."

"_Hogsmeade_? Why would you hate _Hogsmeade_? You used to –" 

Draco put on a face that was a stunning imitation of Filch, the old caretaker. "It's that joke shop. Those blasted Dungbombs that kids throw at each other."  

Hermione realized he was joking and broke into a smile. 

"The sweet shop and the way kids buy _bags_ and _bags_ of the candy. The pub and the kids drinking Butterbeer inside. It makes me vomit seeing those disgusting little brats." 

She laughed. "Who do you think you are? Filch?" 

"Well you know where I really hate? Rome."

"What could possibly be wrong with Rome?" 

"The buildings are shabby. The women are good-looking, but never smile at you and everything they sell is overpriced. Everyone is rude, especially the Italian Minister for Magic. And the wizards working at the Vatican take away your wand and don't let you touch anything. And the gladiator fights at the Coliseum are poorly reenacted."

Hermione laughed again. 

"Africa isn't the greatest place for magic, either. African wizards rarely ever use wands…"

Hermione listened, attentive. 

"Nearly everything is done using potions. And it's damn hot. Try spending all day there watching some old shaman pound baobab bark. Try eating mashed cornmeal and dried antelope flank for a week in a straw hut." 

"Where else have you been?" Hermione asked, excited.

"Well, the Yucatan was alright. Go hiking in the rainforest and you'll find all sorts of ancient temples filled with cursed treasure. The Aztec wizards were pretty smoky like that. And then Bulgaria, which is alright, too." He said, shrugging. "My father was friends with the Minister there." 

"I've never been to any of those places." Hermione said, fascinated. "I don't get to go to the magical parts of cities…because you know, my parents are muggles…"

"Paris, really," he went on, "Is not a bad place. You don't see so many important centers together in one place. The whole place is built on poetry, and you can say what you want. And look around." 

And then the water of the river sparkled even more, so much that it was like a multi-faceted liquid jewel. The golden angels carved into the bridge came out of their frozen state. The stars in the black sky winked. The lighted buildings were palaces. And everything was glinting to a clear sound of music – like violins trilling to a passionate tune. 

"My god." Hermione gasped. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" 

"How did you _do it_? That illusion?" 

"What illusion? That was the real world. _This_ is an illusion." 

The look on her face was now pure confusion and awe.     

"Well…then the real world's better," she said, finally.

"Have you ever been to see the Lido?" Draco asked her. 

"No, I was only thirteen when I last came to Paris. The Lido is an adult show, isn't it?" 

"Do you want to see it?"

~

With quick snaps of the Disguising Charm, Hermione and Draco were transformed into muggles – and not just any everyday on-the-street muggles, either. Draco's black robes turned into a suit jacket over a silver metallic dress shirt, and he had somehow conjured up a gold Rolex watch. Hermione's well-worn work robes became a long strapless pink gown and her hair placed itself into a sleek wrap on top of her head, and diamond jewelry adorned her wrists and neck. 

Among the glasses of fizzing champagne, shimmering chandeliers, and loads of red velour, Hermione found themselves dancing before the show started. 

A jazz band was playing some romantic music, and he held her hand in one of his own, and held her around the waist with his other. She leaned on his shoulder and they slow danced carelessly. They fit in perfectly.

"Don't forget," he said into her ear. "This is just an ordinary illusion, a dream you're living. These are nothing but muggles."

_These are nothing but muggles_.   

The Lido turned out to be the most fantastic show Hermione had ever watched. Illusion or not, it was stunning. Beautiful smiling dancers swept across the stages in a sea of glitter, feathers, smoke and lights, drowned in bold music. Theme after theme took over – Playboy bunnies in a furry pink suits, jazzy flappers with their beads and garters, ballerinas in tutus, space marauders in flashing flying saucers, Egyptian with their kohl-painted eyes, white-turbaned Arabians against midnight backdrops. The music was changing every few minutes, and Hermione found her eyes dashing around to see everything. The stage changed every few minutes to accommodate acrobats, figure skaters and puppeteers. 

It was _the_ original evening show. The glimmering "real world". 

"That was absolutely great!" Hermione exclaimed happily, skipping in her pink sandals down Champs-Elysée later. "It was so romantic, so beautiful, so…." 

"Glamourous?" Draco supplied. 

"Yeah…" and she twirled around and fell into his arms. 

Draco began humming the Love Theme from the show. 

"Do you believe in love?" Hermione mused absently, snuggling in his embrace. 

"Love?" he asked incredulously, kissing her cheek. 

Hermione sighed and shut her eyes. 

" 'Seven seconds into midnight, a creature laughed outside'…" she murmured.

" 'And inside, that fire burned to a new height'," Draco answered automatically. 

" 'In accordance to love's demise, I have sewn shut my heart's eye'," Hermione went on, surprised. 

" 'And though veracity says I life, misery declares I'm right'," he continued. 

" 'And even with flawed sight, expectant feelings arise' –"

" 'Of what might fill the sky' – "

" 'Five seconds before sunrise.'"

They both looked at each other, a little amazed.

"You read Vanhadium?" Hermione asked, jaw dropping. 

"Of course I've read Vanhadium. I've had to. He's the greatest wizard poet of the classical era," Draco answered. "Why?"

"No – it's just…" Hermione began. "No, well, um. Just, not that many people pay attention to magical literature. Um…never mind. It's a good poem." 

Then she paused for a moment. "You haven't read _Hogwarts, A History_ by any chance, have you?" 

"No…" 

"Nothing." Hermione shook her head and giggled. 

Draco swept her by her waist and kissed her. Eagerly, she kissed him back, warm, tight kisses running all over their lips and cheeks. A jolt of fire was spread through her body with every brush of skin. Fingers in his blond hair again, and tongue flickering his fangs, they were back into it. And the air was shimmering and music was somehow ringing in her ears. 

~

"The potion. Look. It's turned cerulean-silver, like it said." 

Indeed, the mixture in the cauldron was now an unusual suspension of the two colors. 

"It's nearly ready for the next step then." 

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, and took Draco's hand. She kneeled down to take a closer look at the potion. 

"Do you know what this means? The war could end if we make this all the way through!" she said. "It could be the key to winning this war." 

"And you could return to England?" 

 "I'm never returning to England." Hermione said immediately.

"You're staying in Paris forever? You're starting to like it?" Draco smirked. 

"Well…it's not that," Hermione laughed. "But…there's no way I'm going back there."

Draco kneeled down next to her.

"Well, you know what else you could do? You could use it." 

"Use the potion?"

And live forever? Do what _she_ wanted to do, not what she was told to do. And be with Draco forever, see the whole world. Forget living in a constant cycle of research and pointless work. The stupid war wasn't _her_ job. It was so_ irrelevant _compared everything that she could do – _should_ be doing.

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then hugged him hard.

~

It was dusk when Hermione woke up. And she didn't remember a thing about getting back to the Madeleine and falling asleep. And it wouldn't be long before Draco would come and they could finish work on the potion. 

Hermione sighed happily. That was definitely something to look forward to. 

She walked to her desk. 

Funny. On it there were laid several envelopes. Owl post. 

But she didn't usually get very many letters. 

One was labeled from Harry, the other from Ron. 

Hermione grabbed it.

But, no. 

Instead she opened Harry's:

_Dear Hermione,_

She scanned over it. There were the standard greetings and how-are-you-s, and news that Harry had opened one of the Books, wanted her help, blah, blah, blah. Sure she'd try and send some help.

Then she picked up Ron's.  

But she didn't want to read it. No matter what was inside, seeing something that had to do with Ron was the last thing Hermione wanted to do. Especially after everything she had been through with Draco…oh gods, no. And what could _Ron_ possible have to say anyway? 

Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of her.

_Dear Hermione, _

Most of the information was the same as Harry's…except - 

_Haven't heard from you in a while. I'd really wish you'd come back to England. If you can, take Floo to number 7 Godric's Hollow tomorrow at four. Besides, it's bloody hell not the same without you. Seeing you soon, Ron._

Hermione threw the letter down. 

All at once, "the illusion" came crashing back in the "real world". 

A pressure filled Hermione like panic. What would they _think_? What if it was awkward? 

But Ron's letter had hit a nerve somehow. It was very sweet – the words of a loving friend. It was making feel like…_jelly_ inside. 

_Gods._

Ron. 

Maybe she could just go and then leave again quickly and come back to Paris. A visit. She wasn't one of them anymore, so technically, it'd be a _visit_. 

Draco.

Thinking of Draco made her feel braver. They were different, from unlike worlds – two nomads who had sailed to the same island paradise. They were equal parts; alike like soul mates (no that she _believed _in soul mates), they had a mutual understanding at times. It was a link.

And besides…he was mysterious, smart, fun, ravishingly handsome and…really _sexy_. She certainly _liked_ him a _lot_ more than Ron – if only they had been sorted into the same House – 

But no, no, no. She had a _responsibility_ with Ron. She had known him for seven years and – 

"Hermione?"

"Draco?" She had forgotten he was coming. 

"I have the mercury solution." He held up a vial. 

Hermione blurted it out before she could stop herself. 

"I have to go back." 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Disclaimer: All names, copyrights, etc, belong to the fabulous JKR. And congratulations to her on her new baby, husband, getting richer than the queen, and of course, finishing the fifth book. She's an absolutely amazing woman. (Am I allowed to write all this in the disclaimer?) 

A/N: Yay! Another chapter. The story's coming closer to finishing. The plot and characters have been difficult. There are about two chapters left, and then I'm off to retirement-ville. In other words, enjoying the fifth book like everyone else. 

As a writer, I think I'm really sensitive to criticism. Though I need it more than anything, and welcome it with open arms. Thanks a lot to Hauntress, because without her I'd die of poor fic-writing.  

And of course, I love my reviewers with all my heart ^_^

Chapter Thirteen 

"I'm sorry." She said. "But I have to go. I'll be back, and…I'll meet you back here tomorrow night."

Then, she leaned up and kissed squarely him on the mouth as if to seal the promise. 

"Go on, then. You probably need to see Potter and Weasley anyways."

But with a last fleeting look, she turned and left.

~

Draco found himself wandering outside the Madeleine. It was the perfectly alive midnight hour. He would find the other two again, but first, he needed to drink something. It had been a few nights without properly feeding on blood, and he awakened to the body that he forgot he was living in. All the living mortals around him were beings of heat and pumping blood. Walking pieces of meat. 

Even on the public streets, it wouldn't be hard to simply pick one out, push them aside and drink.  

They, with their soft eyes and twitching, live skin. They were in every essence beautiful organisms to be plundered and taken. Mortal death could come easily, death that translated into immortal life, with a squeeze from the grip, a puncture from the teeth. It should be easy, should come naturally.  

Except that it was different. Hermione's face kept coming back to mind. Draco couldn't stop thinking that he was still human. 

Human, rebuilt on the same blueprint but with superior substances.

And there was a creepy uneasiness there. 

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. His body was cold, empty-feeling. Did marble statues feel aware that they are made of stone? That's what it felt like. The hunger was still gnawing, from every fiber in his body he felt a cold fatigue that needed to be satisfied. 

Now he was walking about the streets in desperation. 

Thirst. Fatigue.

Animal blood.  

Draco turned himself into an alleyway. It stunk of garbage, rotting human waste. There would be rats, cats, and other foul creatures.

It was surprisingly easy to simply grab a squirming rat, and to slit its throat with a slice of the fingernails and squeeze the blood dry into his mouth. The vile creature stopped moving, its body went stiff and dead. 

He didn't even have to dirty his lips. And the mouthful of the watery rat blood was a start, at least.

~

There was a single, tall, messy-haired man standing there after Hermione climbed out of the Floo fireplace at 4:02 am. He turned around, with a tired smile on his handsome face. Round glasses were perched on his nose, a thin lightning-shaped scar partially hidden behind his fringe of messy black hair. It was the same Harry Potter, but older, wiser, and wearier of the world.

"Harry," Hermione said, and she hugged him. (There seemed to be no sign of Ron.)  

"It's good to have you back," he said, and led her out of the building with his arm around her shoulders. 

"How is everything? Is everyone alright?" Hermione asked. 

"Yeah…Professor McGonagall's alright, Sirius is okay…"

"What about Ron?" 

"He's fine. He's been helping me, too. He couldn't come with me to pick you up…"

"Why not?"  

"He was too tired." 

Hermione nodded, but felt a particular sharp jolt to her side. 

"Well anyway, Harry…I'm here to help you, so why don't you tell me what you have?"  

Harry eventually helped her Apparate to St. Mungo's hospital. He filled her in on a lot of things he knew about the Book, about Torch and the idea behind the creation of vampires. They talked through the end of the night, near until it was bright outside, and dark circles were visible under Harry's eyes. 

"Go on, rest," Hermione advised Harry. 

"No…at seven we're supposed to meet with the others. And – don't tell them what I've told you yet."

Soon Hermione found herself trapped in the middle of a room with Harry, surrounded by all the people she was most dreading to see: Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Seamus Finnigan, Ronald Weasley and Parvati Patil. Most of their remarks towards her were of the same sort:  

"Good to have you back, Hermione." 

"I hope it was alright working abroad."

"We're glad to see you again." 

Hermione tried to sit as unnoticeably as possible in her chair. She felt alien – even the sky outside the windows looked funny – she had become unaccustomed to the sun in several days of being completely nocturnal… 

Then again, the other part of her was still flushing with shame and humiliation – and glancing at intervals at the red-haired man sitting several meters away.  

Why was Ron constantly touching Parvati's arm and trying to make her laugh? 

"We're going to search Malfoy Manor, look for any leads…"

"Yeah, look for anything Malfoy left behind…" 

"Used the Veritaserum on Narcissa Malfoy but she can't seem to answer…"

"I think it was the Fidelius Charm."

Hermione was dozing off, lost more in her own thought. 

_Pay attention…_

_Yeah, but what for?_

"What do you think, Hermione?" Remus asked. 

"Hm?" Hermione asked, snapping awake. "Um. Catch You-Know-Who, right? Wouldn't it be easier if we just surrender?" 

"_What?_" 

 "Why didn't we think of that before?" Hermione laughed easily. "We could feign that we surrender, then get close to him and attack when he's not expecting it." 

Now everyone was staring blankly at her.

"We can't do that!" Ron said sharply.

"Why not?" 

"We'll never be able to double-cross ourselves like that! We're not going to bring ourselves so low as to kiss the feet of that _damned _piece of…of…!" 

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. "No, not kiss his feet, what I mean is –"

"Hermione, do you know what it means to follow the steps of Lord Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked grimly. 

"No, Professor –" Hermione started. 

"We have to fight him head on!" Sirius stated firmly.

"Oh, think logically. We would win this war if only we – " Hermione protested. 

"We can't do it that way!" Ron snapped. 

"Why not?" Now she was getting annoyed. "All we have to do is pretend that we've given up, and when he accepts it, we can attack directly – "

"Pretending its – no, no, that's impossible!" Ron cried, sounding as if the very words were poisonous to say. 

"But – " Hermione began again. "You – don't have a chance otherwise – "

A roomful of shocked, crestfallen faces stared back at her.

"I –" She tried to start again. "Oh forget it."  

And she stood up and left

~

Malfoy Manor was very dark, very empty. It was easy to climb the dark walls of the tyrannous stronghold, undo the spells and with an easy grace, pull himself into a large window. 

The castle was devoid of any sound. Draco was on the second floor corridor, the long velvety carpet dusty, the floating candles lifeless. 

He recognized the door to his old bedroom, his parents' bedroom, and the many multitudes of spare halls and studies; mostly Lucius's. The staircase would lead downstairs, to their living room, lobby, dining room.  

The stony, deserted existence made the place look even older and emptier than it was. He should've been utterly alone…except for the presence behind him. 

Turning around, there stood Ankar behind him in the hallway.

"Back here, Draco?" Ankar's round, smooth cheekbones were smooth, beautiful highlights on his skin. His tall, thin figure approached. 

"I couldn't find you anywhere." Draco said testily. 

"You can tell us where you go when you run away. You are, after all, one of us."

"One of _you_?" 

"You know that, Draco. You've always known it. Sooner or later, you will have to accept it," he said in an irritatingly gently way. "You can be sentimental for the moment, just keep that in mind."

"Damn you." Draco muttered through gritted teeth. 

Ankar strolled smoothly past Draco and glanced at the old portraits of the Malfoy family ancestors. 

"Listen, Draco." His voice was seductive, commanding attention. "We are the Children of the Darkness. There are not many of us, we are only the sparse chosen few."

The shadows on the wall were dancing. Time was either going very quickly; or stopping altogether. There was a rush going by. Ankar's voice turned different; alternating deeper and higher until it wasn't him speaking, but the voices of forgotten others. 

Ankar had a way with illusions. 

About the walls were faces now; fuzzy because Draco's eyes were only half-open. Around Ankar's soft facial features, behind his elegant figure were dancing eyeless faces. Masks; like ghosts of theatrical masks, mockeries of people. They were swirling in cloaks of sparkles and silver – in dancing fabrics of violet, indigo, emerald. They were looking at him – a sweet-faced female with supple lips. A laughing child. An old man. A grinning devil with sharp dimples.  

"They die. We do not. We need not pity mortals. They are food to us; their quickly-fleeting blood only temporary." Ankar pressed closer to Draco, his arms gripping Draco's shoulders forcefully. Draco felt Ankar's eyes on him – dark orbs of fiery black warmth. 

And Draco then felt the hot taste of blood teasing his tongue; a cloud of a sensation that was not real. And it was the most enticing taste he had ever experienced; the sweet and salty almost-liquid that surged through his mouth in the most joyful and absolutely satisfying way. 

"You don't even know your own power; you don't know your own possibilities. You could have everything – love, power, knowledge. You know this. You know you have the potential." 

The feeling of energy was surging into him with the blood now. Powerful emotions – determination, optimism, ambition – drained into him with the blood that fell at his feet.  

It would be so sweet, so satisfying to give in. The temptation promised him so everything – all he had to do was accept and everything would be healed…

_Do it, Draco. Stop pursuing this meaningless and you can be part of us, this triumvirate we could be together!_

Draco gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. 

Join Ankar and Bardot, and become part of their powerful little ring. 

A stubborn streak of pride would not let him bend over to that.

Something told Draco that power could not come so easily. It could not come for Lucius, nor for Tom Riddle.

And give in to listening to _them_ for the rest of his life? What? No fucking way. 

It took some will power, but Draco raised his hand over his face and blocked Ankar's face from his mind.   

 _You don't understand, Draco. _ 

"Yes, I do. Stop." 

The dancing masks faded into the background of the room, until naught was left but Draco and Ankar in the perfectly normal stone room. 

Ankar's eyes were livid with a sweet, seductive, greedy evil. But it was dying down. Ankar had miscalculated Draco; Draco had resisted.

Besides. It was _wrong_. That's what Hermione would think; because she, as most Gryffindors, could think in the face of temptation. Vaguely, in a land far, far, away, it was illegal to take such a surreal offer.  

"You're going to have to get over this sometime." Ankar said, almost sadly. "You know we're different. Why are you even back here? What are you doing looking at your parents' pictures?" 

Draco clenched his fists resentfully, now completely on guard. 

"Don't forget. You _wanted_ to let go of this life," Ankar whispered silkily. "You're not afraid of killing, surely you can learn to let go of these few?"

"And what's your point?" Draco asked coolly. 

 Ankar smiled. "Listen to what I'm saying."  

Draco looked away with a sarcastic scowl.  

Ankar toned down, back to his original self. "I just thought you should know about certain plans." 

Draco rolled his eyes in a rather juvenile manner. 

"You should probably know that there are these certain books in existence. Written by a wizard. They contain information about our kind, and could be very useful to a certain powerful wizard. And you may want to know that Bardot has possession of one of these…and is offering him this information –"

Draco's jaw dropped. "What? He's going to Lord Voldemort?" 

Ankar nodded.

"Then what the hell is he going to do? Become a Death Eater?" 

"Get power." 

"Power?" Draco sneered. "That's – "

"We'll speak of it later." Ankar interrupted sharply. "Where have you been?" 

"It's not your business." Draco replied coldly. 

"With Hermione? That mortal girl that you're still in love with?"

Draco scowled. He had forgotten that Ankar knew who Hermione was. 

"Take this, in case anything happens." Ankar produced a small white circular amulet hanging on a chain. 

"What, a necklace?" 

"A Talisman. I have reason to know advanced magic. It will protect you even from the light of the sun." 

"This is all madness." 

~

"How could you think of somehow like that?!" Ron demanded, as he caught up to Hermione storming through the hallways of St. Mungo's. 

"Look at it, Ron, if we do it that way it would be so much easier!"  

"We can't! That's just – impossible!" His face was burning red, and his whole body was tense. 

"All right, all right." Hermione sighed, exasperated. "Forget it, okay?"

"But – we can't do that!" 

"Yeah, okay. I know." She sighed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "You don't have to get so mad just because you don't like the idea," she muttered.  

"We're going use Harry's idea. Change the contents of the Book and leave it there." Ron sounded comforted by his own words. 

"Okay, Ron, but…oh, sure, whatever."

He looked so confused, his intense brown eyes were so agitated. 

"That's fine, okay?" Hermione gave him a piteous look. "Do it your way."    

~

Hermione was relieved. 

At least there was nothing holding her behind. She had gone to make sure she wasn't making a mistake, and now she knew: she wasn't. She saw them for what they were - a group of misled wizards going on and on about fighting a war when the only things stopping them from victory were themselves. 

She didn't hate them. But work with them? Really. It was _sad_.

And it wasn't _her_ fault they were being so blunt-headed. They would have to learn the hard way.  

Hermione didn't owe them anything. She didn't owe anybody anything – except maybe her muggle parents living in suburban London half a universe away – but aside from that, not Harry, Ron, not anybody. 

Ron was just a stupid teenage boy anyway. 

Hermione was _her_ own person, she could do what _she_ wanted. 

And now she was back in Paris. 

"Draco!" she cried. 

They were there again, and she was looking into his stony-colored eyes and wanting to just freeze the moment. Draco pressed his hand to her cheek. "You're back."

"Yes, and I'm staying here with you. And I need to tell you something." She tugged at his sleeve. "They're going to raid Malfoy Manor." 

"Raid the Manor – why?" 

"It's about the war…Draco, you know your mother…" 

"She isn't living there anymore." 

"That's because they took her for questioning." 

Draco paused for a moment, his sharp, vaguely angelic features lost in thought. "I wouldn't send your friends down there unless they wanted to die." 

~  

"So this is Malfoy Manor. I can't believe I'm seeing it."

Hermione stepped in through the window with Draco. And aside from Hogwarts and the Madeleine, it was the most interesting magical building Hermione had ever seen. Malfoy Manor was completely devoted to Dark Magic. The walls and moldings were decorated with stylized gargoyles and demons and various serpent-adorned versions of the Malfoy crest. 

"There's so much dark magic stuff…" she said, impressed.

"The fireplace behind the drawing room leads to a secret room where my father held Death Eater gatherings. Just because most of the Death Eaters are dead doesn't mean they might still not be using it. And the…vampires know how to get here."

Hermione nodded, still fascinated with their surroundings.

"Oh, the staircases are made of solid marble," Draco said, seeing that Hermione looked interested. "The wall and floor paneling – see there – those are real Linovitch."

"Wow…"

"Be careful, there's a secret passageway behind that tapestry. Leads downstairs to the dungeon." 

"Do all the tapestries have secret passages?" 

"Pretty much. I have about five different ways to get to my bedroom from the first floor." 

They sort of stood there for a moment, walking in the sullen silence of the empty hall.   

"Here." Draco walked up to a particular statue and pressed a gargoyle's cheek. "This one leads to the library."

The wall opened up to reveal a very large room filled with bookshelves. Completely different from the Madeleine, its vaulted stone ceilings commanded grim respect. The shelves were framed in wrought silver and what looked like the Malfoy family coat-of-arms was engraved into many of them. 

The only seating seemed to be a dragon-hide armchair in front of a large fireplace. Looking closely, most of the volumes were very old, rare spell books that Hermione was dying to flip through. 

"Wow. Your family really _were_ powerful Dark wizards."

"Of course." Draco said lazily. He sat down in the dragon-hide armchair and the fireplace lit itself. "And you'll never cease to be attracted to books, will you?"

Hermione smiled and came to sit on the armrest next to Draco. Then she playfully kicked off her shoes and put her bare feet on his lap. Draco immediately reached out and cupped her face with his hands and pulled her in to kiss her. Instinctively reacting to the warmth of his lips on hers, Hermione put her arms around his neck and kissed him back, a little stronger.  

Until all of a sudden, she lost her balance and fell off the armrest and into his lap. 

"Ahh!" she shrieked. 

Draco started laughing before he caught her from falling off the chair altogether. 

Blushing, Hermione laughed too, then pulled herself back up and put her shoes back on. Draco got up and gently put his arms around her waist. 

Still, blushing, she diverted his attention elsewhere. "Look, there's you!"

It was a painting of Draco, a splitting image of him where he was glaring coldly. It was a perfect rendition, except that his real face was even paler. 

"I got that when I turned seventeen. If you tickle it…"

Hermione walked up to the wall and tickled the painting Draco. It opened up to reveal an alcove in the wall.  

"Look, we have one of these things." He took out a dangling chain with a small golden hourglass hung onto it.

"A time turner!" she gasped.  

"You've seen one before?" Draco asked, mildly surprised.

"Yes…actually, I had to use one in my third year to take a whole lot of extra courses." 

Draco pulled out a folded piece of paper. "See. This is my father's will. In case of accidental death, the entire manor and all the Malfoy family property goes to me when I'm twenty-one." 

Hermione skimmed over it, fascinated. "Wow…six million galleons." 

Draco smirked, looking amused.   

"And half of it goes to your wife if you're married..." she read.

Draco's eyes glinted merrily. "So what're you trying to say?"

Hermione's cheeks turned pink again. "Nothing! Love isn't about money…"

"Well, generally that's how it is in my family."

"Really?" she asked, looking at him.

"Oh, yeah. Marry into other powerful families…like the Parkinsons." Draco strolled casually back to the large armchair. 

"Were you in an arranged marriage with Pansy Parkinson?" Hermione asked curiously.  

"Not exactly, we were just heavily encouraged. That's how it's always been for the Malfoys. Honor isn't about love."

"Was it like that for everyone in your family?"

"Sure. Responsibility, discipline, family honor, respect..." Draco's cold tone trailed off, but Hermione thought she sensed some vulnerability in his words.  

"I'm sorry…" she told him.

"No – don't –" Draco said irritably. "It's not really bad…" He stopped again. 

"It's okay." Hermione said, frowning. "I mean, Blaise Zabini – I was her friend for a while when we had an Arithmancy project to do together…she didn't exactly come from a loving family…but I dunno." 

"I don't care. Seriously." Draco muttered flatly. "I don't live here anymore, I don't care." 

She paused. "I dunno. I've drifted so far from my parents, it's like… I don't need them anymore."

"Family is far from everything. They're just a group of people who wouldn't give a damn about each other if they weren't related by blood."  

Hermione silently agreed. Then she changed the subject. "But you _liked_ Pansy, didn't you?"

A malicious grin came back over Draco's face. "Not really. Although she was always good for a quickie."

Hermione laughed disbelievingly. "You slept with _anyone_, didn't you?" 

"It's nothing extraordinary," Draco said with a shrug. "Just about every Slytherin and every Ravenclaw had slept with every other Slytherin and Ravenclaw after fourth year."

"You've slept with…Cho Chang then?" 

"During school? When Potter was infatuated with her? Maybe once. Not after she got mixed up with the vampires, though." Draco stretched lazily on the armchair, and he looked a lot more like his old self than the vampire.  

Of course, it wasn't _that_ extraordinary. Though internally, Hermione was still a tiny bit awed. Obviously a lot of hormonal activity went on at night at Hogwarts. Sex wasn't _that_ dangerous – not compared to massacring a museum-full of Death Eaters. 

"So basically," Hermione ventured. "Anyone could just sleep with anyone? Even…guys with guys and girls with girls?" 

"I suppose. Though I never shagged any guys." Draco added. "What's with all the questions? It's no big deal, it's only sex. Oh wait, that doesn't apply to Gryffindors, does it?"

It did to her, at least. Although, if she had been sent back several years in time with what she knew now, there was no _way_ she could've stayed a goody-goody prefect girl. "Not really. It was sort of only between the most serious couples who were really in love."

Draco snickered. 

Hermione stuck her tongue out defiantly. 

~ 

Draco was going to pull Hermione over to him to kiss her on the neck, when suddenly all the torches hung on the wall flared brightly on. 

"What is that?" Hermione asked. 

Draco immediately started to toward the hall. His first thought was that Ankar had come back; and it wasn't a thrilling thought to have to deal with him with Hermione around. "That means someone's come in through the dungeon."

"Who would come in? I mean…."

"It's not my parents. The only others who know about it anyways is…" _Ankar_. _And Voldemort._

The Dark Lord? That was worse. 

"Just stay there." Draco told her. He walked swiftly out of the library and to the nearest door that led to the dungeon. 

Most of the rooms in the dungeons were where Lucius worked on potions. They were wand magic-proof; any wand magic that hit the walls would destabilize it. It was dank and cold, but something told him that someone was there. 

A was a person standing in a lighted room. It was too small to be Ankar. That meant it had to be – 

So it was.  

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked sharply. 

The snake-faced, red-eyed, Lord Voldemort turned around. He was as frightening as ever before. But Draco had startled him – he hadn't heard him walk in.    

 "Master Draco…what business is that to a junior Death Eater who has been so absent to my service…?" he spoke carefully, obviously doing some quick thinking. "I didn't realize you were still residing here." 

A few months ago, Draco would've been scared out of his wits to have the Dark Lord speak to him that way. But – that was a few months ago. "Why don't you leave? You can't use this place anymore." 

The slits of Dark Lord's nostrils flared furiously. He was obviously not expecting such a reaction. He knew something was different about Draco. 

Then again, the Dark Lord didn't scare easily.  

"And do you want to know what I'm preparing here, Master Draco? It is a very _important_ potion." His thin, white lips curled a little into a smile. 

_Not exactly_, Draco did not know.  

"It is like the one I used for my reincarnation three years ago. Infused with my personal elements, and breath of the African Nundu, it is very dangerous and very powerful…" 

The book Bardot had given him?  

"As I heat this cauldron is lit above its freezing point, it will become toxic to any normal living being…that is of course, not including me."

Would it hurt him? 

Draco whipped his wand out and cursed him so inhumanly quickly that even Lord Voldemort could not possibly have seen it as the jet of red light hit him in the shoulder. 

He staggered for a moment, completely shocked that one of his servants had cursed him. He took out his wand - 

"Draco!" It was Hermione. 

"_Incendio_!" hissed the Dark Lord. The cauldron burst with enormous clouds of violet gas.  

And then he Apparated and was gone.

Draco ran up to Hermione. "What is it?" 

"When Nundu breath is raised above freezing it turns back into a poisonous gas…" she stuttered, choking on the violet fumes. It reeked awfully of strong acid. 

"I think he's already partially turning himself into a vampire…" Draco told her. "What's happening?" 

Hermione's small figure bent over. Her volumes of brown hair shook with the momentum of her coughing. And then he saw the blood that was spewed onto her hands from her mouth.   

"It's affecting you," _but not me_.  

Hermione nodded drowsily. Draco held her up as well as he could, and carried her out of the dungeon. 

She was unconscious now. It wasn't hard for him to sense that her pulse was weakening drastically. 

Yet he was perfectly fine. Memories of what Ankar had told him earlier came rushing back. Talk about his physical immunity as opposed to the mortal lifelines. 

Her body was almost completely limp. 

Draco hesitated and hoped he wasn't going to seriously regret what he was to do. 

And he put his wrists to her mouth.  


	14. Chapter Fourteen

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Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me, all of it belongs to JKR. Except the seriously twisted little plot that belongs to me. Uh, yeah. JKR owns the characters. Order of the Phoenix is coming in four weeks. My Gawd…

A/N: Hurray! This is the fastest I've updated in a while. Hope you enjoy ^^; the plot is now stark raving itself mad and story is quickly concluding…also thanks to my tough-ass editor, Hyde. And reviewers. 

****

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**Chapter Fourteen**

Draco winced as the blood rushed to his wrist, where he held it to Hermione's mouth. 

He let it go slowly, at the same time feeling at her neck for the return of a pulse. He concentrated hard on keeping conscious because it was draining away his strength. Exhaustion was catching on, but he persisted. 

Her body was getting warmer, and her pulse slowly came back. Draco pulled his wrist away.  

He knew it had to work. 

The reeking violet gas flowed through her nostrils, and broke free of her lungs to spread throughout her whole body. And then it became her – filled her head and body and then broke _out_, left her entire physical form – and she floated out with it.

She was flying above the ceiling. She could see. The hallway of a stony castle. The small flaming torches and the stars outside. The door. _The_ door, the one that led to the dungeons. 

She knew a lot of things. She knew that Voldemort, that snake-like mutation, was Apparating back to the very few servants he had left, back to his pet Nagini and his sanctuary within a dark forested alcove. She knew that the Resistance was still planning, a group of good-hearted wizards working late into the night…

She could see herself sprawled on the floor, robes heaped against the smooth gray stone, and Draco, kneeling over her. 

Draco.        

Yeah, she really cared about him. 

She could see herself, too. Hermione. Hermione Granger. That was her name. Speaking of herself…she belonged back in her body, didn't she? She was needed there. Her body needed her.

"Draco!" she cried out, and opened her eyes.

The part-moon was watching, casting white light that overshadowed thetorches on the walls. Beautiful on Draco's skin. All of a sudden she was looking up at his striking gray eyes and captivating expression. He must have been relieved and delighted, and surprised as well to see her awaken. She was awake and aware again of her two arms and two legs, the weight of her torso and her blinking eyelids. 

Hermione tasted blood on her tongue, remnant of – that violet stuff that made her choke and hurt herself. She could still smell it, too, foul in the air. But she was _conscious_ again…

"Hermione," Draco whispered. 

"Yes?" she answered, sweetly because she cared about him, and wanted to treat him that way 

"Do you know what I've done to you?" he asked. "I've made you a vampire." ****

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded.

_So that's what he was doing when; that's why I'm alive. _She understood. And she felt okay; peaceful and strangely acceptant of the fact. 

 "I know." _And he's weak because of it. Weak because he was trying to save me._ And there she was, lying in his lap like a vulnerable child. 

"Draco," she said, and pulled him by the nape of his neck to hers. He was tired and succumbed easily to her soft tug. She clutched his head to her neck. _Do it, drink, _she urged mentally. She wrapped her arms around his neck and urged him to break the skin with his teeth, to let the blood flow from her neck into his mouth. 

His lips locked on her neck. It was an intimate connection. Their pulses synchronized amidst the rapid circulation of blood. Her body heat fluctuated from cooler and warmer. 

They breathed huskily together, holding on to the delicate embrace. 

_Are you alright? Are you okay?_

_I'm fine now_…

It was a startling moment when they slowly pulled away from each other. Both of them had blood at their mouths, Draco's wrist was still trickling with it, and the wound on Hermione's neck was just fresh. He was cradling her in his arms. But, eventually their breathing would slow, go back to normal…  ****

~

The minutes seeped by later, Draco stared dazedly at what he had done. Draco hadn't expected to make her into a vampire. He hadn't thought about it or considered it. It had been spur-of-the-moment when she collapsed. The Nundu breath was fatal and Draco was no mediwizard; he couldn't think of another way to save her. 

But it was done, and there she was – all the more sensual and real than ever. Every strand of her hair was flowing in its independent beauty. Her eyes danced, glittering like dark topaz. All traces of human flaw were being erased. He found himself fascinated with her smile. It wasn't just a regular smile, it was a brilliant pure _joy_ smile. She was starting to see the world in a different light. _The real world_, probably, he thought. And she as she grinned, tiny points already budding from her canine teeth. ****

Draco was sort of glad he was given a reason to do it. He was perplexed with the change. Maybe he had secretly wanted it to happen. Wanted her to become a vampire, too, so they could be more alike. 

So they were still both somewhat weak from the mutual blood wounds. And thirsty. Draco pulled his eyes away to think of what and how he would teach her. 

The nearest human settlement to Malfoy Manor was a small town. Well, what else was he supposed to do, find some animal to leech?

It was a sparse settlement with fewer people around at night than in downtown Paris or London. They had to wait before a muggle walked by, and Draco caught him. Quickly, he bit down on the thick, blood-rich artery in his neck. "Quiet," he coaxed into the victim's ear.  

Draco took a long, satisfying mouthful of the salty blood before turning to Hermione. 

"Drink." He told her. And he watched in trepidation as she carefully, eyes large with concentration, took the man's neck carefully and brought her mouth slowly to the red gash. Imitating Draco, she opened her lips on it and sucked. 

"Careful…" Draco warned, as she gulped assertively. "Stop…" he told her, once the victim grow limp. "Drink as much as you want but stop before the heart stops beating." ****

Hermione stepped back reluctantly. The mortal's body fell stiff, and she let it drop to the ground. 

"I can't believe I just did that!" she gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her breathing was heavy and fast. 

Then she sighed gleefully, looking rather pleased.  

 "Do we just leave the body there?" 

"Yes. Do you want anymore?"

Hermione nodded without any hesitation. She looked so innocently cheerful with what she had accomplished to feel bad that she had just taken a life. ****

It awed him a little, that ruthlessness. ****

"Pick one out." Draco said. "They won't notice you if you be discreet. You can make them do what you want, just by willing it." 

They waited patiently for another valid muggle to come by. With conscientious skill, she persuaded the victim, this time a young female, to approach them. Hermione acted as an angel to seduce the woman to come closer. The young female could not hold back from such a beautiful woman beckoning her. She submitted quietly. 

"Just bite down on the soft part of the neck." Draco was saying. 

Hermione nodded, baring her new fangs upon the victim. She was careful to listen to what Draco said – careful to be neat with the whole process. 

So this was what it was like. It was like waking up from being blind. The world was different. The edges of every shape and color were beautiful – looking up, they were living inside a midnight jewel, the trees were colored with watercolor, and Draco was the artist's self-portrait amidst it all. ****

The blood tasted sweet and good in her mouth as she drank from the artery of the young muggle woman. The delicious fluid flowed straight into her throat, pumped from the heart. 

Oh, but wait. _I'm being rude_. 

"Do you want any?" Hermione asked Draco considerately, looking up.

Draco laughed, strands of his blond hair waving as he stood over her protectively. 

"Really – you've lost a lot of blood," Hermione insisted. The warm skin promised life. And the victim - the woman was almost obedient under Hermione's soothing fingers. Hermion motioned Draco over. They both came to press their lips on the fleshy surface. She heard the victim whimper as Draco's fangs, too, pierced her neck. Together the two vampires lapped at the innocent skin, their lips so close they were half kissing, half sharing the blood as they drained her at the same time.   

Reluctantly, they let go of the body before it weakened to death. Hermione had to grin at Draco in all the fearful glory that it was. She took his hand, fondling his fingers with her thumb. She stared fascinated with the skin of his long, bright fingers. And her own hand – she held it up in front of her, marveling at the sudden change in its appearance. Her color of her skin was paler, a more translucent version of its old hue. Her fingernails were clear and crystalline, and even the creases on her knuckles seemed perfect. 

"My fingers…" she trailed.  

"Your body changes," Draco said. "Partially dying. You'll gain a lot of advantages. There are a lot of other things you can do. Mostly just your magical powers enhanced. If you tried to curse me now, I probably wouldn't be able to dodge it." 

Hermione smiled. "Okay. This is weird. My body is…doing something to itself." ****

"I suppose it should," Draco said. "I don't think curses will hurt you as badly. Neither will most other physical hazards." ****

"Nothing can?"

"Light from the sun can hurt you. And fire." Draco said. "I know that much." 

"Light from the sun…so what do we do in the daytime?" 

"Sleep." Draco answered. "In a coffin traditionally, but any safe space without light will work." ****

Hermione welcomed this useful new information with relish. "How did you know all this? Who…did to you what you did to me…?"

Draco arched an eyebrow at the question. "Well, there isn't so much love between them and I." 

She nodded understandingly.  

"You learn quickly." He observed of her. He shook his head fondly.

For the first time, Hermione knew she was seeing Draco as a whole for the first time. She had seen fragments of him, large pieces of a broken picture, but never all at once. He could be the bastardly teenage boy from school. He could the ruthless Slytherin, raised to be as ambitious and merciless as he needed to serve his own purpose. But now she could easily see under these aspects of character – he was, if he chose to be, fully capable of loving someone. ****

She smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you."  

Draco ran his fingers through her hair. "I didn't know I'd have to do this." 

"Well, what's so bad about it?" Hermione asked. 

Draco didn't say anything. "I'd better find you a place to sleep." ****

~

It was drawing close to morning, so they had to find somewhere to sleep. There were halls and halls of rooms in the wings of Malfoy Manor. Some of them contained large, heavy chests – mostly for decoration purposes. There was an especially large one, heavy with some artifacts and heirlooms put there for storage. Draco cleared them out. 

"You should sleep together with me…for this time." 

She smiled, agreeing. Draco wanted to just run his fingertips over the smoothness of her cheeks. Every contour of angelic skin, the lips colored like Persephone's pomegranate seeds, the long, thick eyelashes shading her eyes. And those beautiful fledgling fangs. 

As if she wasn't already the most beautiful person in the world. Being a vampire became her. 

Draco took Hermione around the waist and let her step inside with him. She naturally, fearlessly, put her arms around his neck and leaned on his chest. He closed the lid over them.

No time to think, no time to consider. 

Just to rest, for the time being.  

Draco listened for a while just to the sound of her breathing and let himself enjoy being able to wrap his hands closely around her body…

When Draco could sense that it dark outside again, and pushed open the lid of the large chest. 

"Can I get up?" Hermione murmured quietly. 

"Yes," Draco took her by the hand and pulled her up. In the bluish light, her eyes and skin shone like a porcelain doll. Her complexion looked more like Ankar's or Bardot's or Cho Chang's than it ever had her own. ****

"Should we go and get a drink?" she asked happily. ****

~

Half and hour later, they had gone back to Paris. Hermione had suggested it; there would be more people there. 

They fed off muggles, street people. They took two, and shared them together. He remembered exactly what they looked like – the first was a black-haired woman and the second was a skinny, dirty-skinned man. They were young, if not impoverished. Both were twitchy and clumsy-footed, really. Ironically, Draco felt a twinge of pity while Hermione showed no mercy. She applied herself easily to the rules – she simply did what she thought she should.   

Right. Other thoughts still came to mind, though. Was he going to talk to Ankar? What did he say about Bardot allying with Voldemort? Damn Voldemort. He was a nuisance. If anything, the Light Side had a good point there.  

"Hermione, I'm going to go meet some people. Other vampires." Draco said. 

Hermione licked the last essences of blood from her tiny fangs. "I'll come. Are they the ones you knew? Your creators, I mean?"

"Uh-huh." Draco answered. He did the Binding Charm again, and Apparated them both to the base of the Eiffel Tower.  

"We're back here again." Hermione said happily. She marveled interestedly at their surroundings. 

"Hermione - I…didn't think you would be coming." Draco told her. "I didn't know –" ****

Just then, two other figures appeared. 

Draco cringed.   

"Draco." One of them said. It was Ankar.  

"Draco, it's good to see you again. Who is your friend?" asked Bardot boldly. 

Ankar surveyed Hermione over. "You've made her one of us."

Draco tightened his grip on Hermione's waist.

Ankar looked serious, but changed his expression back to a gracious smile. "Hermione," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "It is my pleasure to meet you." 

Hermione smiled politely, looking only slightly intimidated. 

Bardot sneered at them both. "Don't put that show on, Ankar. She's _so_ young! And you're only a fledgling yourself, Draco! You fool."

Draco's insides flared with anger. Did they even know the situation under which he had to do it?! 

He shot Bardot a menacing glare. "_I'm_ not the one dealing with Lord Voldemort. A mortal." 

Bardot smiled annoyingly. "And weren't you once his faithful servant?"

"_You're_ the goddamn fool!" Draco spat. ****

"My, my, you've changed, Draco." Mocked Bardot. ****

Draco's temper was flinching. "You're going to serve a mortal? What are you going to do? Become his handmaid?"

"I can give him what I have – the Book, help, knowledge. We have what _he_ wants – immortality. There is power to be gained, Draco." ****

"Why the hell would you want power for? I thought you didn't want to have to do with mortals. And he doesn't need _your_ help." 

"Ha! Don't speak so easily of things you don't understand!" Bardot cackled. 

Hermione squeezed Draco's hand discreetly, edging closer to him.  

Then Ankar interrupted. "Why did you make her into one?" Directing their attention back to the young girl vampire.   

"I've met you before…" Hermione said abruptly. "I think I've seen you before…" ****

Draco ignored them to continue arguing with Bardot. "What are you doing with these mortals for? You don't care about them."

Bardot ignored his comment. "Just tell me one thing. How do I find him and his Death Eaters?" ****

_The Dark Mark_, Draco thought, immediately reminded of the brand on his forearm. 

Bardot's eyes flashed. As if he could read minds, he grabbed Draco's arm and pulled up the sleeve of his robe. He touched the burning mark and Apparated very quickly. 

"Damn!" Draco cursed, as Bardot vanished. 

Ankar looked knowingly at Draco and at Hermione. "If it so concerns you so much, then stop Bardot. There is damage to be done." 

"If Voldemort somehow does get made a vampire, his power is going to multiply." Draco muttered. "It's going to screw up the world."

"I should tell Harry and the others," Hermione said, looking to Draco. 

Draco paused. "Your skin looks a lot pinker from this angle now. You look more like before."  

"Wait – don't let her go yet," Ankar instructed. "Draco, give the Talisman." 

Draco suddenly remembered the Talisman Ankar had given him, that laid unworn in his robe pocket. 

"Are you sure?" he asked suspiciously. 

"I swear it will protect you," Ankar promised solemnly. "Let her wear it." 

 "If you're against what Bardot's doing, why don't you stop him yourself?" Draco asked suspiciously.

Ankar looked thoughtful. "I would not fight him, and I could not defeat him if I did. He is my closest companion, and what he seeks is beyond my right to challenge." 

Draco scowled and held the little white necklace out uncertainly.

Hermione took it from his hands, and clasped it behind her neck. It was the first time that Draco had seen her wear jewelry of any sort. 

"It's quite pretty," she said, smiling. 

~

Hermione was running back again. Again. 

Into St. Mungo's and searching for Harry. 

So she didn't want to see them _dead_, okay? From Voldemort taking over the world with new powers.

Hermione found she could move fast – very fast. Almost fast enough so that people couldn't notice. She raced down several halls until she saw him. 

 "Harry!" she yelled. Then stopped, making sure to keep her teeth unnoticeable. ****

"Hermione, where have you been?" Harry asked her. "You just ran off like that –" 

"This is very important. Voldemort is going to turn himself into a vampire."

"What – what?" Harry blinked. "But, that's impossible. _I_ have the book." ****

"There's another one. A vampire gave it him, whose name is Bardot. And if you don't stop him from helping Voldemort, this war will be _over_." 

Harry paused. "How do you know this?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. 

"Just do something about it!" Hermione screeched at him. 

Harry sighed. "What do I do?" 

"Just come with me." 

"Okay, let me tell Dumbledore." 

Harry left and Hermione turned the other way. And ran into Ron.  

"Hermione? Where have you been?" Ron asked, grabbing a hold of her arm.****

"Nowhere – I mean, somewhere." Hermione said quickly. She gave Ron an innocent look and made sure to keep her teeth covered again. "Do you have any idea how worried you make us when you go running off alone for days like that?" Ron asked hotly. 

"I'm sure, Ron, I'm sure." Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron? Worried? _My ass_. 

"Hermione! You can't do that! You're not a little kid and – " ****

"Yeah! And you fucking sound just like your mother!" Hermione snapped at him. "It's my business."   

Ron recoiled at her words. His face purpled, the tiny hairs on his chin twitching. 

"Why couldn't you just tell me what the hell you're doing then!" he yelled. 

Hermione's temper burned inside. How was she supposed to explain? And how was he supposed to understand? 

~  

"Draco!" 

Draco turned around. "Is Potter coming?" he asked.  

"Yes. I told him to. What about…Voldemort – and Bardot?" 

"There'll be a dangerous clash of enemies tonight." Draco said darkly.  

Hermione kissed him. "Maybe after this war is over, we can go back to our real world." 

Draco didn't say anything, but a hand on her neck and ran his thumb over her lips and fangs. "I have no idea how it came to this." He said quietly.  

"The war…this will all be over soon. It's going to end, and then we can go and do whatever we want." Hermione said optimistically.  

"You're more Gryffindor than I thought – not afraid of anything." He said tiredly. 

Hermione gave him a sheepish smile. 

Draco shook his head. "Come on. If we don't get going, hell is going get raised without us." 

~

Hermione and Draco found themselves in Malfoy Manor, with Harry, Ron _and_ Dumbledore. 

"Draco Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked. 

"It's _you_!" Ron accused.****

"It's my house, Weasley, what do you expect?" Draco asked incredulously.

Ron gaped furiously at Draco. 

"Hermione…" Harry started. 

"Hermione – once and for all I want to know what's going on!" Ron stormed. "I don't understand what is going on with you! You bring us here with _Draco Malfoy_?"

"I came to bring Harry and Dumbledore, I didn't ask you to come!" she retorted sharply. ****

"Draco –" Dumbledore said with amazing calmness. "Do you care to explain your part in all this?" ****

"Lord Voldemort is going to turn himself into a vampire tonight." Draco said dryly. "Are you interested in stopping him?"  

Ron looked enraged. Harry's expression was unreadable, though he was eyeing Hermione and Draco in a funny way. Draco had on a grim, sarcastic expressionat the irony of the situation. Even Dumbledore looked bemused. 

"Let's go down to the dungeons." Hermione said quickly. 

As soon as they reached the entrance to the dungeons, the atmosphere changed. 

A wave of negative, uneasy magic was in the air. Hermione noticed Ron, Harry and Dumbledore shiver with the momentum of the dark energy.  

_Draco, what is it?_ Hermione asked. 

_It's the dark magic_. He answered. 

"Use your Shielding Charms," Dumbledore commanded them. ****

They quickly obeyed. 

So they could see the ritual. 

This chamber of the dungeon was a plainly decorated stone room of average size. Lights danced all about the otherwise dark walls from the cauldron in the center of the room. Incantations were gnashed and hissed as Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue. The table was dark and stained crimson. The Dark Lord read the spells furiously, a large open spell book in front of him. A fuming cauldron emitted violent flames and violet, red and green flashes of light circled the room like multi-colored fireflies. 

"Tom Riddle, performing his teacher's work." murmured Harry. 

Hermione heard Ron murmur about the smell the potion ingredients. It must be making him sick. The air was blurry from the mercury toxins.  

_Look, it's Bardot_, Draco observed. 

_I see him_, Hermione answered.****

Indeed, kneeling on the ground was a figure they recognized as Bardot. 

Voldemort's rapid cursing heightened to a climax. He pulled off his robes, leaving a raw, naked upper body. He kneeled on the table. Bardot stood up ceremoniously and dipped a ladle into the flaming cauldron.

"If he touches that potion, he is going to complete that spell. He's going to become immortal." Draco said quietly.  

"What do we do? Do we attack?" Harry whispered. 

"_I _am," Draco said fiercely. 

A streak of light passed Hermione's eyes from Draco's wand. It ricocheted near to Voldemort's prostrate body, bouncing off a Blocking Charm and split into a spark of magical light. 

Hermione took out her wand and sent a curse towards the same spot. No effect. 

But now they had his attention. As well as Bardot's. 

The vampire's eyes flashed angrily at the five bystanders. 

All at once Harry, Ron and Dumbledore fired their own curses at him. 

In a blink of the eye Bardot dodged out of the way, too fast for the three mortals to see. 

"Watch out!" Hermione shrieked, and she sent a spell at Bardot. They were of nearly equal speed, but she missed. 

"Ahh!" Ron cried out. He fell onto her knees, clutching his eyes. 

It was the heavy chemical magic in the air. ****

Harry was choking hard and collapsed on the floor. Dumbledore masked his entire face with a thick bluish magical shield, obviously more experienced than his two students. ****

The wizened old wizard was fighting, too, to the best of his abilities. Hermione still admired the skill Dumbledore had in wizard's dueling. Even though she, Draco and Bardot had the unnatural speed, Dumbledore was still the guru of magic. 

_Harry, Ron_. Hermione thought. She conjured a reflective shield for them. 

Draco and Bardot were sending curse after curse on each other, none of them hitting but still missing by dangerously small intervals and searing the dungeon walls.

Just then Hermione watched in the corner of her eye, Voldemort lift the ladle out of the burning cauldron by himself – 

_Draco!_

Draco turned. "No! Stop Voldemort first!" he yelled. "Don't let – "

Hermione shot an Immobilization Spell at him, but it was too late. 

The burning liquid fell on Voldemort's body, and immediately it mutilated. 

Twisting, grotesquely, the skin changed and singed. The whiteness of his bare shoulders were burnt and blistered, peeling off horrifically. His snake-like mouth slit into an agonizing screaming hole, his blood-red eyes bulging out of their sockets.  

Would he die? Did he accidentally cause his own death?   ****

Hermione saw Draco stare in shock, and Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore stand helplessly. 

Then, the most shocking thing of all happened. Like a molting lizard, the layer of Voldemort's blistered white skin peeled completely off and lay there in a heap, and he climbed out of it. Tall, handsome and youthful, it was Tom Riddle. 

Without the deathly white exoskeleton he had created for himself, it was the _human_ Voldemort.****

He was so handsome when he smiled like that to them. He did look like Harry, Hermione decided. Except that Harry had soft, almost sleepy eyes, whereas Riddle's eyes were all-powerful and scarily intelligent. They bore into you sharply, as if you could never hide anything from his glare.

It was a miracle. Hermione had never seen Tom Riddle in person, but she knew he was _real_ at that moment, a terrible, terrible miracle of magic.     

"He's done it. He's created himself immortal." Draco said softly. 

_Yes, I have done it at last. It is finally finished. I am Lord Voldemort, the resurrected and undying!_

Subtle panic pounded in the back of Hermione's consciousness, but she was too frozen to the spot. They were all watching in awe, as the beautiful young man who had just appeared calmly picked up his wand.  

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

Only it wasn't just a single jet of green light. It was a huge projection that filled the room. 

No one had time to dodge it or even scream. It was far too fast, too powerful. 

And all of a sudden, for the second time in two nights, Hermione was knocked right out of her body. 

_Draco!_

_Hermione! Can you hear me?_

_I can, I can! Where are you?_

Draco was floating in the air, too, a wispy and transparent image. Just as she was, probably also.

_We're not dead_, Draco said. 

_Look!_ Hermione screamed in her mind. 

Sprawled on the ground were the Harry, Ron and Dumbledore. Harry's eyes and mouth were open in a shocked expression. Ron was lying face forward. Dumbledore was fallen stiff, propped up against the wall. 

_They're dead?_

_No!_ Hermione screamed. Dread filled her. _They can't be! Why aren't we dead? Our bodies are down there, too!_

And there they were – she, Draco and Bardot, lying on the ground. She was looking at herself! Her eyes, white and rolled up in their sockets and her mouth open, revealing the vampire fangs that were her own. _Is that me? I look different_. ****

_We're not dead, Hermione!_ Draco yelled. _We can't be! We can go back to our bodies_. 

_This is all your fault, Draco!_ It was Bardot. It_ was not your business! _Hermione suddenly saw him, too, a cloudy blur floating with them at the ceiling of the dungeon. 

_God damn you! _Draco yelled angrily. _You started this idiocy, you –  _ 

_Why did you have to interfere!?_

_You should have known! Lord Voldemort doesn't keep promises to his supporters!_

Hermione could feel Draco and Bardot's emotions. Their feelings were shared, free-floating thoughts in meta-space.

Whirring. She longed for something solid, something real to hold onto. She was nothing but feelings and vision. 

_Draco, let's go back to our bodies!_

_Yeah, yeah, you're right_, he replied. _Will yourself to do it_. 

Hermione concentrated hard on the view of her slumped body, concentrated on moving towards it. 

_Draco, are you doing it?_

_Yes, hold on, we'll make it…_

There was a sensation like falling into the surface of water. A change of atmosphere, she broke into the solidity of her body. A thousand physical feelings – pain, pleasure, sound, light, smell – passed through her at once. 

~

She coughed, and opened her eyes. 

She had returned to her body. 

"Draco," she sputtered, sitting up. 

_Oh good_, she thought. _It is so much better to have a body_. She moved her fingers and legs, feeling cleaner and happier than ever to have limbs. _Thank goodness_ that her body was functioning perfectly. 

"Hermione?" Draco said. He sat up also. 

Draco had never looked so un-vampire-like at that second. Not since Hermione knew him to be one. He looked – _unprotected_, plain, stripped of his power. 

They were scared. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, panting. 

"I don't know what happened." Hermione told him. 

She dragged herself over to where the three mortals lay motionlessly. "Are they dead?" she gasped. She tugged on Dumbledore's sleeve, shook Harry's shoulder. Her vampire sense told her that their hearts weren't beating. 

"I – but what if – they could come back – like we did?" she whispered. 

Draco looked doubtful. 

"What if…" the next thing Hermione knew, she was choking on dry sobs. 

"I – " she began again. 

"Bardot – " Draco cried. 

Bardot was coming back, too, getting up on all fours like a sleeping predator awakening. Hermione froze, instantly jumped for her wand. 

His face was clouded and shadowed. He crawled towards them, a dangerous glare in his eyes and his teeth bared savagely like an animal. 

"Why did you have to interfere?" he hissed mournfully. He stared so hatefully at Draco, Hermione backed away in fear. 

Her head whirred with overload of trauma. 

_How did it come down to THIS?_

"Don't – " she whispered at Bardot. "Please, no…" 

"And you." Bardot said harshly, turning to her. 

Hermione tightened her grip on her wand. 

"Do you know what you've _done_?" Bardot whispered treacherously. 

"Do you know what _you've_ done?" Draco spat back at him. 

"No, please, don't argue…" Hermione begged, covering her face in her arms. 

"You don't know what I was _doing_! You had no idea what was going on!" Bardot wailed. "You were a mistake, Draco!" 

Hermione wanted to get far, far away from Bardot. She wanted to look away. From the disgusting, pathetic heap he had become. She wanted to block out his wailing…

He was arguing with Draco still. They were yelling at each other, tiresomely over a mistake that couldn't be undone. 

"Damn it," Hermione whispered. "Draco…don't fight…"

"You'll both have your turn," Bardot sneered. 

And a searing pain hit Hermione in the shoulders and she was flung onto the wall behind her. Like two white-hot knives below her collarbones, they pinned her there. Two more hot knives pinned her wrists outstretched beside her, and two more on her ankles. 

The back of her head smashed against the stone. She screamed, from the shock and the burning pain. 

_Draco!_ She screamed in her head. She knew the same was happening to him. 

"You can't fucking do this!" Draco yelled, enraged at Bardot. ****

"Can't I?" challenged the wrangled vampire that was staring madly at them.  

"God_damn_, I – " Draco cursed. Hermione saw him force his arm out from the white saber that held it onto the wall. The blood spurt to the ground. She felt the sudden burst of indescribable pain in his arm. 

"Ahh," she moaned. 

A magical force snapped Draco's wrist back to its place on the invisible crucifix. 

"You can't escape that way," Bardot sneered, laughing hysterically. 

"Don't – you – dare –" Draco forced himself to say. 

"Oh, but I do," Bardot said wildly. "Goodbye." 

And he was gone. 

Hermione closed her eyes and bit into her tongue. Her body sagged under the intensely aching stab wounds in her limbs. She heard Draco cursing and struggling to force his arms and legs free. She felt it every time he tore his ankle out of its constriction. 

"It won't work," she said weakly. 

Draco stopped, his breath fast and ragged. 

"My wand…" she mused. "I can't reach it." 

"How did I let him get away?" Draco brooded upon himself. "How did…" 

"It's not your fault, stop it!" Hermione shrieked at him. "Please." 

But she could hear his thoughts, his angry disappointment at failure. 

_Harry, Ron and Dumbledore are dead_. 

_How could it come to this?_

_Draco, will we die if Bardot doesn't come back and undo this spell?_

"How could it come to this?" he breathed.  

"It's okay," Hermione told him. "We have to get out eventually…" 

Too tired, too exhausted from the constant pain, Hermione began to fall into a bittersweet peace. If she had been alone, she would've been scared, but Draco was there and it seemed to be alright. She murmured a few words of comfort to him as the night dragged on.      

Draco was in deep agony; Hermione could feel that. He was still struggling a bit, still desperately trying to think of a way out. 

_I'd rather be here with you than somewhere safe without you_, she said to him. 

Draco turned his head to look at her, even though he was still spiked onto the wall by his bloodied shoulders and wrists. 

"Hermione – the sky is getting lighter," he whispered. ****

The only windows that reached the underground dungeon were the two tiny ones at the height of the walls. From there, the sky could be seen.

And so it was. The light was turning bluer as the sun approached. New panic and fear filled them, and Hermione could feel Draco struggling to get free with renewed energy. 

"It won't help!" Hermione said hoarsely to him. 

"We have to find some way," Draco said. 

Slowly, the dawn grew closer. 

"We have to," Draco insisted. Hermione winced as he struggled at the skewers over and over again, and she felt the sharp stabs in her own wrists and shoulders. 

"Draco – please stop. It's not helping, and it's hurting both of us," Hermione pleaded. 

"I'm sorry," Draco said. He stopped. "Sorry…"

"Will we die?" Hermione murmured.  

"Dammit!" Draco yelled again, and started to thrash violently against the wall. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" he cursed. 

"Draco!" Hermione cried. "It's okay, stop!"  ****

Much quicker now, the light shining in on the dungeon wall was not just blue but slightly pink. Eventually, the sun would come over the horizon; real sunlight and not just colored dawn rays and would get through the small dungeons windows. . ****

Draco was deeply uneasy.****

"It's okay," Hermione told him. "Really…"


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Disclaimer: The wonderful, fabulous, amazing, talented J. K. Rowling owns these characters and situations!!!! I own nothing, but am happy just to worship her. Thank you so much for finishing Order of the Phoenix!! 

Chapter Fifteen

They waited helplessly. The light crawled closer and closer to their raggedy forms on the wall. Slowly, inevitably, it edged to the bottom of Hermione's feet. 

Hermione cried out as the sunlight was hot on at her feet through her shoes. Pain shot up her legs. The once mellow light was now searing-hot fire rising slowly up her ankle. Hermione was screaming inside her head, screaming that Draco could hear. 

It was hot. Like boiling oil. Her reflexes told her to pull her legs away, but she couldn't. She couldn't escape from it, couldn't stop it. How long would it be until it killed them? 

It was like the Cruciatus curse, ravishing up her nerves from inside.

Every minute was a year, her skin sizzling in that wretched boiled oil. She couldn't think, couldn't think, in that sea of excruciated pain…

_Can't it just finish and be over? Just let me die!_

_Draco?_

_Draco!_

Hermione watched the hot glare of the burning malicious sun slide up his body. His expression was pure agony.   

_Draco -_

Then, suddenly, the skewers holding them to the wall disappeared. 

They fell hard onto the stone floor.

"Ouch!" Hermione cried out. Then the light hit her face and neck and burned there at her skin. 

"Oh god, god, god…" 

Draco was crouched on the floor, covering his face with his arms, so that his platinum hair shone like a mirror in the unbearably bright sunlight. 

_Hermione…_ he cried to her. 

Hermione her eyes tightly, and she crawled over to hug Draco protectively.  

But it wasn't going to be okay. It wasn't going to be okay. It wasn't going to be okay. 

He was struggling, trying to get up, but he couldn't. Hermione felt the numbness in his body, and she held him close to her, but his body was slipping from her grasp. 

"No…" he moaned.  

His body seemed to leave Hermione's grasp; elude her touch. He wasn't pulling away from her – he was _leaving_. _No, no,_ don't let it be. A thousand screams sounded in her head. She was barely able to keep her eyes open, as Draco's form – though not Draco anymore – blurred before her. Disappearing into the bright light. Burning into ashes. Hermione screamed his name over and over in her head, and groped around blind, trying to find him. She was scorching in the cruel, hot light, she was going to die, but she couldn't stop frantically looking for Draco. Where was he and why couldn't she find him? 

_Sunlight will kill_, a voice said in her head. _He's gone, get away while you can!_  

Hermione felt the blisters form on her lips and they cracked; the sores forming on her tongue as she opened her mouth. Her eyelids were going to be burnt through and all her bare skin peeled raw. If she didn't get away while she still could, she would be dead.

Hermione took all her willpower, and crawled, pulling herself with her elbows, away from the sunlight's reach in the dungeon. She struggled herself up the stairs, forgetting all but the desperation to be somewhere cool and safe. 

~

It was the most unbearable day of her life. Hermione had probably crawled everywhere all over the manor, creeping like a blind, drunk, half-dead leper through the shadows, never quite aware enough to really get up and find a properly dark place. The horrific burning light seemed to find her anywhere she went. Finally she dropped into a dark storage closet for an uneasy rest. 

Hours and hours passed. 

Then it was safe; the sun was down. Hermione stood up, crippled, exhausted and pained. 

She couldn't think properly. A queasy, sickness held her insides. Her muscles seemed to have been tugged loose from the bone and her skin was raw with blisters and sores. 

"Hermione!" 

Astonished, she turned to hear the male voice calling her name. Draco? 

No, it was the tall, dark-haired vampire, Ankar. 

"You –" Hermione began. 

He approached her, immediately taking her arms and holding her up. "What happened?"

"Draco –" she muttered confusedly. 

"Your face – it's all scarred." He said, his lips pursed in concern. "The sun." 

Hermione coughed and choked. 

"But you're alive," he said, looking triumphant. "It's the talisman." 

Hermione gazed at him in amazement as he pulled out the silver chain that held the white charm. 

"What?" she whispered. "That's why I'm alive?" 

He nodded. 

Realization hit her.

"No! No, no!" Hermione yelled. "No, it can't be like that!" 

"Why can't it?"

She stumbled towards the dungeons, the tall vampire following behind. 

"Draco!" she yelled.

"Did Draco get away?" asked Ankar. 

Hermione was dizzy. There were the bodies of her three friends, but not Draco. Only the black robes that he wore lay on the ground. 

"Ashes…" whispered the tall vampire.

"How could it come to this?" Hermione sobbed. She fell to her knees, crying. "I didn't know how it came to this…" 

Memories of the past months ran through her head. From the times of being an Auror to leaving to meeting Draco to becoming a vampire herself. 

How could it have come to this? 

How could it come to have Draco be dead, gone? And Harry, Ron and Dumbledore…Draco was too special to lose, too amazing to be just gone, gone because of a stupid mistake. 

How could it have come to this, after being so innocent and good-willed, to twisting into this dark corner of the universe? What was right or wrong anymore? What was life, what was death anymore? 

How could they all end up dead? 

What the hell was her life worth now?

And how. How, how, how could it happen? 

_HOW COULD IT HAPPEN?_

"How?" she sobbed to the tall vampire. 

"Don't worry yourself." He told her softly. "It is only a cycle. It was a mistake, you will move on and put this behind you." He held out his hand to her. 

Hermione shook her head. Then, faster and faster and faster she shook it, letting her hair spin wildly around her. 

"No!" she cried. "This could _not_ be meant to happen!" Panic struck her. "It is not meant to happen!"

It couldn't happen. Itcouldn'thappenitcouldn'thappen. 

_IT COULDN'T HAPPEN_. 

It didn't seem right. It _wasn't_ right. Something in the course of events didn't seem to make sense – or something! But it just couldn't happen that way! Like something wrong had happened that shouldn't have. A mistake, yes, a mistake. Something that just _did_ not mean to happen.

"There has to be a way," she sobbed. "It was never meant to be..."

"There isn't," said the vampire. He put his hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, come with me."

"NO!" she yelled. "There is a way!" 

Hermione ripped herself off the floor and ran up the stairs, ran, ran, ran to the door that led to the Malfoy library and up to the portrait that Draco had showed her. 

She opened it, and grabbed the tiny hourglass on the chain. She put it around her neck. 

The hands on the snake-encircled clock on the Malfoy's wall read 9 and 17 minutes. 

She turned it. Once, twice, three times…

And the world around her dissolved in a swirl of time. 

~

Hermione turned the glass over and over until she was sure that it was at least a night before. She was still in the library, standing exactly where she was, with the time-turner around her neck. 

She was trembling as she put it down. 

_My god_, she thought. She wasn't a vampire anymore. 

Her hands were back to normal. Her skin was no longer pale and glassy. They were normal, living hands. She could feel her insides, feel her ordinary body functions. So it meant she didn't have the invincibility she had before, but at least it had worked.

Voices. Down the hall.

It must've been herself and Draco. 

Having lots of experience dodging people with the Time-Turner, Hermione crept out the door and hid. Next to her a mirror on the wall showed her reflection. It was normal. Her skin was pink, not porcelain like Draco's. It was not scarred and burned like Ankar had told her. It was no longer burning, either. She could no long be harmed by the sun…although she _could_ by stabbing, disease, suffocation, poison gas, etc.  But hell, that's the way it should have been. She wasn't meant to become a vampire, even if Draco was. She was sorry a bit. 

Anyway, there was work to be done. 

_Think_. 

She had to reverse it somehow, make it so that Draco never turned the real-time her into a vampire. If they hadn't gone down to the dungeons, hadn't go down to where Voldemort was, if she hadn't been poisoned…then Draco wouldn't have turned her into a vampire, _he_ would have the talisman and _he_ would live. 

And what if, she could stop Voldemort herself somehow? 

Yes, yes, that had to be the way. 

Hermione crept into the dungeons.

If she didn't do it right, then this would be the place that she Draco would be burning in the sunlight. 

She waited silently in the shadows. Anytime now Voldemort would appear. 

Then, a shadowy form came in from a barred window. It materialized. Yes, it was _him_. This was a night before, before Voldemort was to shed his snakeskin and returned to become Tom Riddle. 

He conjured a table and cauldron for his work. 

Hermione bit her tongue. So it was up to her.  

Plain, mortal, Hermione.

"_Stupefy_," she spoke. 

The average, unaided spell hit Voldemort in the back and knocked him stumbling forwards. 

Stunned, he whirled around and glared at her. "Who are you!" he hissed at her. 

Hermione came forward, summoning her courage. _Don't hesitate_. What was there to lose?

She sent a curse, the same one that Bardot had used. Two knives were sent straight at the dark wizard's shoulders and pinned them there. She had Voldemort stuck against the wall. 

"_Expelliarmus_," and she removed his wand, as well.

Footsteps. 

Draco and her past self were coming. Hermione put on an Invisibility Charm and crept quickly away. She ran past the two (it was so _weird_ to see herself) and to the library. 

Okay. 

Breathe. 

Hermione was shaking madly as she stood there, trying to calm herself. _Okay._ She had just successfully subdued Voldemort. Amazing. And she still had more than twenty-three hours before she had to come back. In that twenty-three hour time frame, she knew that _she_ (the other self) would still meet Draco's two vampire acquaintances – that should still happen – and would go to Harry. And if they had Voldemort _caught_ in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, then Harry would certainly be there to deal with them. 

Hell, the war could be over by the time she got back. 

_Alright_, she thought. _Where do I go now_? 

~

"Harry!" someone yelled.

_Huh? Hermione_? 

"Hermione, where have you been?" Harry asked. Harry turned to see Hermione running towards him through St. Mungo's. "You just ran off like that –" 

"This is very important. Voldemort is going to turn himself into a vampire."

"What – what?" Harry blinked. "But, that's impossible. _I_ have the book." 

"There's another one. A vampire gave it him, whose name is Bardot. And if you don't stop him from helping Voldemort, this war will be _over_." Hermione gave him a large-eyed look to show that she was telling the truth. "And – I know where he is. He, um, he's in the Malfoy Manor. And he's been caught and Stunned."

Harry was a little overwhelmed by the strange information. _Voldemort? Caught?_ He paused. "How on earth do _you_ know this?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. 

"Just do something about it!" Hermione screeched at him, looking aggravated. She pulled his arm.

Harry sighed. "What do I do?" 

"Just come with me." 

"Okay, let me tell Dumbledore." 

Harry began to walk the other way. And Ron came down the hall to bump into Hermione. 

"Hermione? Where have you been?" Harry heard Ron ask.  

"Nowhere – I mean, somewhere." Hermione said quickly. She gave Ron an innocent look.

Harry slowed his pace to listen. 

"Do you have any idea how worried you make us when you go running off alone for days like that?" Ron said hotly. 

"I'm sure, Ron, I'm sure." Hermione said, sounding sarcastic.

"Hermione! You can't do that! You're not a little kid and – " 

"Yeah! And you fucking sound just like your mother!" Hermione snapped at him. "It's my business."   

_Oh god,_ Harry thought, cringing.  

 "Why couldn't you just tell me what the hell you're doing then!" he yelled. 

Harry saw Hermione storm off, leaving Ron fuming in the hall. 

"Ron – come on, let's go to Dumbledore," Harry said, pulling his friend by the shoulder. 

Ron clenched his fists, his face flushing deep maroon. "How dare she…what did she come back for, if she isn't even going to us anything?"

"She…told me. It's about Voldemort. I'll tell you, just come," Harry said pleadingly. 

"But why didn't she tell me?" Ron asked, looking kind of hurt now. They started walking down to Dumbledore's room. 

"Ron, maybe you should let her know that you care about her," Harry said, trying not to sound too _cliché_. So it wasn't the best thing to talk about when Voldemort could be caught soon…but still, it was a perfect opportunity to pep talk Ron about he and Hermione's relationship, so…

Ron looked agitated and stuffed his hands into his pockets. As a broad-shouldered young man at least six feet tall, it was surprising how much he resembled his second-year self. 

"So you do care about her, don't you?" Harry put in carefully.

"Well…uh-huh." Ron said reluctantly. "But I thought she cared about me, too." 

"She _does_, Ron," Harry coaxed. 

"She doesn't act like it," Ron whined. "Why else would she keep running off like that? Every time she sees me, she just runs off again like she _hates_ me. She just gives me this look, like…the way Fleur Delacour looked at me when I asked her to the ball in fourth year! It was never like this at Hogwarts."

"Well, um, Ron," Harry said. "Maybe at that last meeting, you were being a little uh, negative about her opinions and being a bit, uh, attentive to Parvati…" 

Ron looked confused. "But that's just Parvati. I mean, Parvati's going through a lot, and I just wanted to make her feel better." Then he put on a suffering look. "She's totally different from Hermione. I could never replace Hermione's just…it's _her_, you know? Parvati can't compare to _Hermione_. I'm just being _nice _to Parvati…"

"Maybe," Harry urged. "You could _tell_ her that…" 

Ron looked as if Harry was requesting him to dress up as a naked Cupid and dance in front of the Ministry of Magic. 

"Tell her?" he sputtered. "What would she _think_?" 

"Well…" Harry trailed. "Hermione's going through a lot, too. All you have to do is talk to her, you know. Spend some time together? Ask her if there's anything bothering her…and listen. Girls like that, you know." He paused. "And it's kind of obvious that that's what she wants in your case, you know."   

Ron purpled, but Harry knew he was going to consider it. 

"Now come on." Harry said. "There's somewhere important we have to go."

~

Hermione paced around the Madeleine, the paintings and sculptures watching attentively over her.   

All day she had to wait, and get back before 9:17 the next night. 

"Elizabeth," she asked. "What time is it?"

"Two hours till midnight." Elizabeth told her. 

"Okay," Hermione breathed. "Okay…"

Hermione sat down. The unfinished potion they had started was in front of her. So was the Pensieve that Draco gave her. 

Draco. 

What was meant to happen between them? She cared about him; he cared about her. They had made it so far with their differences. Thought, was there a real future with him? 

Though if the war was over, then it might be easier. Draco wasn't a Death Eater anymore, after all. 

She'd like that. 

They could be together like a normal couple, without any war to interfere. 

Draco. 

Hermione sighed in relief. He was alive, he wouldn't die this time. And neither would Harry or Ron or Dumbledore. _It was going to be okay_. She lay down on the futon and hugged a pillow. She was going to get out of this mad situation, and get out of it with everyone unhurt. She was lucky at least…she had a second chance at undoing the mistakes. Nothing felt better than second chances, that was for sure.

Hermione reached for the Pensieve, touching its beautiful runes with her fingers. 

She didn't want to forget this memory. So she took her wand, touched her temple with it, and poured out all her thoughts, every single tiny detail, of everything that had happened. 

~

Harry couldn't believe it. Was it over? Was it really, really over? 

He sank down against the wall.

All of a sudden, Hermione had burst into the hospital, and told him about Voldemort being trapped. And – then…they went there. 

He, and Dumbledore, and Ron. Three binding spells at one time, and they had subdued Voldemort, and securely – _absolutely_ securely – captured him. 

It happened so unbelievably fast that Harry was still dizzy. 

Whatever it was that Hermione had done, it beat the other Auror's slow planning by a long, long, shot. 

"Harry!" 

Harry looked up to see her again. Hermione, his best friend. 

He hugged her. 

"Hermione, I don't know how you did it, or found out, but it's amazing," Harry told her. "Really – tell me, how did you know?"

"Someone told me," Hermione said quietly. "And I need to go and thank that person now."

"Wait – don't go. It's…" Harry started. _Still dangerous_, he thought, but stopped.  

"I can take of myself by now, you know." Hermione said, arching an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, I guess." Harry sighed. "Do you want me to tell Ron or anything?" 

"No, no need," Hermione said casually, turning around on her heel. 

As if on cue, Ron came down the hall. 

"Hermione!" he called to her, grabbing her arm. 

"Yeah, Ron?" she answered.

"Hermione…" he said desperately. "If there's anything bothering you…you can tell me! I'll listen." 

Hermione stared at him for a moment. Then she gave an odd laugh. "Um, it's okay, Ron."

~

_"Draco!"_

_"He's not here yet, but don't worry. You can find him later."_

_"Who's there?" _

_Hermione grabbed the other girl's shoulders. _

_"Hermione, listen. Don't panic. Do you remember when this happened in third-year? When I had to talk to you to fix the time loop? It's me. I just had to use the Time-Turner." _

_The other girl looked doubtful at first but then she nodded. "I think I understand."_

_"Good. I knew you would."_

_"Why did you have to use Draco's Time-Turner?" asked the other girl dubiously. _

_"I have the memories. They're stored inside the Pensieve. Here," Hermione urged the other girl to look into the basin. _

_When she lifted her head from the Pensieve, she had all memories that she needed to know._

_"Do you understand what you have to do? First you have to go back to Malfoy Manor and spin the Time-Turner back twenty-four hours." Hermione said to her other self._

_"Okay." Nodded the girl. "I get it."_

~

The other Hermione was gone. 

The time loop was complete. 

It was lucky she was so handy with the Time Turner. 

_Draco's okay_. She knew that much. 

Hermione ran out of the Library into the night. 

She waited outside for a few minutes. 

"Hermione?" 

Hermione cried out in relief. He was back, _yes_, _good!_ He was back again. He was perfect; his hair was a perfect combination of slicked back and loose-flying, his lips were unsmiling, and his expression was temperate and intense. Draco. 

Hermione fell into his arms in happiness, and he let her hug him. 

"They've got him," he said quietly. 

"I know." Hermione pulled away, holding Draco's hands.  

"So…are you going back?" Draco asked tentatively. 

Hermione smiled.

He didn't know, did he? About the lost time. 

Hermione cupped Draco's face in her hands and pulled him closer, so that his temple was adjacent to hers. She touched it, with her wand and poured all her thoughts into him.

The lights, sounds and pictures flew out of the side of Hermione's mind like a beautiful song. Everything that had happened in that past borrowed twenty-four hours, from the time she turned that time turner, played out. All the things that had happened, but then, _hadn't really_ happened. The memory of those few glorious hours being with Draco being a vampire – being _immortal_. And then the sudden turn in the sequence of events that made the huge skid on it all. For the third time, now, Hermione replayed the memory, projected her thoughts for re-analysis. The first time it was for herself, the second time for the Pensieve, but this time, she was going to get some answers.  

When she was finished, Draco pulled away for a second, slightly panting. 

"All that happened?" he asked. 

"Yes…"

Draco stood there, thinking. 

"I want to be with you. I really do." Hermione said honestly. 

"Even now? Now that you've undone all that, and you can go back to your side?" Draco gave her a half-smile, just short of a smirk. 

"Well," Hermione said. "The fighting's done. There aren't any sides anymore. We're all free now." 

Draco continued his cynical look. 

"We can use the Time-Turner again," Hermione suggested. 

"No, I like being a vampire." Draco said without hesitating. "I suit this life."

Hermione felt a slight hint of disappointment. 

"You can take the Immortality Potion," Draco then suggested. 

Hermione hesitated, thinking of Harry and Ron. But Draco didn't seem surprised. 

"But I won't ask you to do that," he said, pulling her close again. "It was easier when we were just pureblood and Mudblood…but I've realized that it's impossible for either of us to bridge this gap now."

"No," Hermione pleaded. "No, I just made my decision, don't make me change it again." 

"You don't know what things could happen because of us." He said. "You don't want to repeat what just happened again, do you?"

Hermione leaned on his shoulder. "Sorry," she whispered.

"But I don't regret it." Draco said grudgingly. "I don't think I'd be able to help it; I'd still have to be there for you."

The words spread a tingling warmth throughout Hermione's body. Had it been from anyone else, it would've been cheesy, but Draco wasn't that type. 

"I know you would." Hermione smiled, thinking of all the times he had. 

Maybe Hermione wasn't as independent as she thought she was, if she was leaning on Draco's shoulder so dependently as that. Maybe the real world and the illusion would always have to exist together, if she was going to stay as a mortal witch on the Light side yet still be with Draco. Maybe friends would always be obscure, but Harry and Ron were back with her again, too. Good and evil would never find a permanent agreement; if there even _was_ an absolute of either extreme. Life would always be obscure. And then again, life? What _was_ life anyways? And death? Even death wasn't permanent; even death was reversible.

 Nothing was stable, because everything Hermione had taken for granted had turned itself on her at least once. 

Yet fate had it in the end for Hermione and Draco. In the end, they were the ones together. 

She held onto him fiercely, and he wrapped his arms around her. 

It was the one thing that had endured, and she wasn't about to let it go.

~

  
 

A Last Author's Note: 

June 13, 2003 (8 days before the release of Order of the Phoenix – I CAN'T WAIT!!!!) 

….My gawds. I can't believe I'm finished. Thank you sooooo much for reviewing! Especially the ones who've followed this from the beginning, people like Blanche Dubois and Landry Anne. And for the people who send me all this encouraging stuff and seem to genuinely like this fic, for a first fic, I totally needed you *gets teary*. I think I'm a completely different writer from the one who sat down almost a year ago write this. My writing's matured and changed immensely since then. And honestly, if I could rename _Dreaming in Crimson_, I'd call it _One Long Crazy Draco/Hermione Affair Whose Theme/Plot Spun Gravely Out of the Author's Control at Many Occasions And She Had to Scramble to Hold Onto It_.

So please, if you could feed me back on any advice, suggestions, criticism, ideas for improvement, it would be most appreciated. How did this story turn out as opposed you what you would've liked/expected? 

In the near future, I think I may be writing a short ficlet or two, but Order of the Phoenix is nearing rapidly, and we'll all be too busy absorbed in that.  

I love you all!!!! 

~Tabbycat


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